A Northern Frey
by PrincessFiona073
Summary: "That love is stronger," his mother told him, her blue eyes soft yet urgent, "It lasts longer." A/U where Robb still breaks his promise to Walder Frey but still tries to make amends after the war has been won.
1. Chapter 1

A/N hey guys, just a small heads up, I added an extra A/U wife of Walder Frey's, so now he is married to his ninth wife, not his eighth.

Chapter 1

The small lake was right where she remembered it being. In the middle of the small patch of trees, largely hidden by their thick trunks, it was a wonder they had found it in the first place at the mere age of eleven. The clear water glistened against the warm sun and Avariella closed her eyes and enjoyed the breeze that shifted through her thin gown. She placed the large towel on the ground beneath her and gently began to remove her boots. The ground beneath her was covered by a thin layer of dry grass and she watched as Max rubbed himself playfully against the grass, his panting loud.

She nearly smiled at the sight of her large, dark brown dog that was feared by many throughout the twins rub himself against the grass without a care in the world. Once her boots had been removed, she placed them carefully behind her and undid the clasp of her cloak, folding it neatly and placing it on the towel. She was left in the thin gown she had always used to swim in, though she regretted not wearing something warmer as she stood there rubbing her elbows. The sun warmed her skin and that propelled her to move forward towards the edge, where they would jump off into the water, screaming with joy all the while. The memory warmed her heart before the sadness that lingered reappeared once more, making all signs of joy disappear within her.

She closed her eyes tightly and let herself get lost in her memories. Avariella could almost taste the joy on her tongue, the excitement her younger self had felt running into the lake with her brother. She remembered how her brother had held onto her little hand tightly and urged her to jump with him. She could hear the ghost of his laughter ringing in her ears, could picture the look on his face as he looked up from her from the water and yelled, " _Come on Ava! Get in the water! It's not cold, I promise!"_ He had been lying of course, the water had been freezing but to him it hadn't mattered. It hadn't mattered to her in the end either.

What one of them did, the other did as well. If one got sick, so did the other shortly after the first had been nursed back to health,— often by the healthier one— if one of them jumped off a cliff the other would follow. That was how it had always been. Avariella and Avos Frey, the twins of the Twins.

At least until Avos had died.

Her eyes opened at that and she felt as though a bucket of ice had been poured over her head. She looked down at the glistening water, that was clear as glass and titled her head at her reflection. A pale face littered with light freckles at the top of her cheeks and large hazel eyes that were said to be identical to her mothers. A thin nose graced her face as well, with a pair of thin, pink lips and high cheekbones. Her hair tumbled down to her waist, wild and wavy as it had always been and still as red as the day she was born. Or so she was told, anyway.

Avariella snapped her gaze forward to stare at the other side of the lake, her reflection forgotten. She closed her eyes and clung to the quietness of the forest. From here she could hear the trickling of the Green Fork, could hear the distant murmurs of the twins. Yet it all seemed so far away in this little world of hers, a world where no one could reach her.

Avariella closed her eyes, took a deep breath and jumped.

* * *

The walk back to the Twins was a short one, and she stopped in her tracks to stare at the East Castle, feeling resigned. She had once longed to leave the twins, had dreamt of escaping the horrible and suffocating people that lingered through its halls and yet now, she did not care for the rest of the world. Her sense of adventure had died with her brother it would seem, all those months ago.

Max barked at her to grab her attention and she scowled, before moving forward, her damp hair soaking through her cloak. The difference between the two areas was striking but Avariella had grown used to it by now; The Twins was everything her little spot was not; Her home was loud every moment; never sleeping, every moment drowned out by the sound of the river. Its people were violent and crass, and its halls stunk of sex and mead at every corner. Yet, Avariella knew the Twins itself, without the people in it, was a striking sight. Alas, the Frey's were there alright and they would not leave.

She entered the east castle quietly, her head hung low as she moved down the hall towards the steps that led to the upper floor where her chambers were. She caught a glimpse of Max trailing behind her and stopped in her tracks, turning towards one of the guards.

"Please escort Max back to the Kennels," she instructed him, "Feed him as well, the Kennel master shall instruct you as to what to feed him."

The guard nodded at her and whistled softly, grabbing Max's attention. Max cast her one look to check whether or not it was alright and she nodded her consent, watching as he immediately bounded after the guard, his tail wagging behind him.

She climbed the steps to the long, crowded corridor that contained most of the females chambers in the castle and sighed loudly, before carrying on down the hall. She heard whispers and giggles echoing from inside their rooms and to her disgust; moans in some of them, making her cringe. Her family had never been one for subtly, she would give them that.

She opened the door to her chambers and closed it quickly, leaning against it. Her heard felt as though it were drowning in her chest, the weight of it dragging her to the ground to the deepest of the seven hells. She removed her cloak numbly, dumping it on the floor with the towel and shrugged off the white, thin gown that clung to her skin, hidden from view because of her cloak. She stood there, nude and barefooted, the cool stone beneath her feet causing her to shiver. It was far too warm outside for her to light the hearth and so she tiptoed around her chambers to search for another dress to wear. She dressed herself slowly, doing the fastenings of her black gown. She had not called on her handmaiden Arra in a year and she did not plan on changing that anytime soon.

There was a quiet knock on her door and she jumped slightly before saying, "Come in."

The door opened loudly and Arra came into view.

"I heard you came back from your swim my lady," she said awkwardly, not meeting her eyes, "I was wondering if you needed any assistance."

Avariella looked at her for a long moment, her gaze soft yet piercing all at once. A hint of sadness crept into her eyes before she said softly, "That is quite alright, Arra, thank you. However, if you would please take those—" she gestured to the wet pile on the floor, "for washing I would be most grateful."

Arra nodded meekly, bending down to grab the pile of clothes in her arms before saying, "As you wish, my lady."

She left without another word.

Avariella sighed loudly when she left, her heart tender in her chest. There had once been a time where Arra was the closest thing she had to a mother, even though she was only five years older than her. That time existed no longer, and the era of braiding hairs and exchanging whispers of tall knights was long over. And with it, there relationship had withered until they were nothing more but strangers with history. Her doing, she knew, yet Avariella could not bring herself to rectify the situation, unsure if she even wanted to.

She brushed her long hair for a while, brushing it until every last strand hand gone dry before placing the wooden brush back on the stand. Avariella briefly wondered whether or not she should stay there for the rest of the day, but she felt her stomach grumble loudly and with a reluctant sigh, she made her way down to the great hall for supper.

* * *

If one found the Twins loud during the day while the Frey's were scattered all over, nothing would compare to when they all gathered each evening for supper in the great hall. Most of Walder Frey's offspring— those who weren't there were either lucky enough to leave the Twins or dead— sat next to each other randomly. Girls sat with boys, bastards sat next to true borns; they were all like a heard, a very, very, loud heard of sheep. Both laughter and raising voices filled the room and Avariella watched those around her with a blank look on her face, sipping on her soup in silence.

Those who sat next to her ignored her, gossiping and whispering amongst themselves without a care in the world. She glanced up at her father every once in a while, trying her best to disguise her disgust with him pawing at his new wife whom looked younger than she. She knew it would make no difference whether or not he saw her looking, the day her father stopped bedding every woman with a pulse was the day he died. Regardless of whether or not his children or anyone else was watching, Walder Frey fucked as he pleased. A sentiment a lot of his sons seemed to inherit, she noted as she glanced towards a corner in the room, where one of her many elder brothers was grabbing a wench's bottom.

 _Not Avos,_ her mind whispered, _never Avos._

She glanced back down at the lumpy soup in front of her and she suddenly had not felt less-hungry in her life. She placed the spoon down with a clatter, ignoring the startled and annoyed looks sent her way. She rose from her chair, causing it to scrape back against the floor loudly. None of her other siblings noticed, except one. She caught Roslin's eye for a moment and she stopped moving, her hazel eyes meeting Roslin's brown. Roslin quickly looked away from her, her cheeks flushing at her being caught staring. It had not been the first time Avariella caught her elder sister staring at a few seats away, and she knew it would not be the last.

" _Leave me alone!"_ she had yelled at her all those months ago. _All I want is to be alone. . ._ Roslin had looked close too tears after she had yelled at her, yet Avariella did not care. She still could not bring herself too. She turned on her heel only to be bump into Maester Brennet.

"Apologies, Maester," she murmured, steadying herself, "I had not seen you."

"It is no fault of yours," he told her kindly, a smile forming on his plump mouth. When he smiled it was as though his great double chins stretched along with him, though Avariella had grown used to the sight over the years. She looked down at his hands and caught sight of a small, sealed letter and frowned, her eyes meeting his.

"Who is that from?" she asked.

The Maester shifted uncomfortably under her gaze before replying," I must tell—"

"My father first," she finished sighing, "Of course."

He gave a smile before moving towards her father. Avariella had turned to look at the pair now, as had several others and she watched as an expression caught between being triumphant and insulted appeared on her fathers face as he ripped open the seal. The room had gone silent, everyone waiting for the inevitable wave of their father's fury, or grandfathers, depending on the relation.

Avariella had stiffened so tightly it was as though she were a block of wood. She studied her father's sickly features, waiting for the lines of fury to come, for the vein near his neck to become glaringly more apparent with his rage. It never came. Instead, a loud, booming laugh echoed across the quiet hall and Avariella frowned deeply and took a few steps closer towards her father.

She waited patiently until he was done laughing and it was then that the familiar smirk she knew graced her fathers wrinkly face. Yet she could see the anger under the surface in those watery eyes of his and was alarmed at the fact that he did not voice it. _Wait for it,_ she told herself, _just wait._

"The King in the North wishes to right the wrong he did on our family," her father managed to croak out loudly, taking a sip of his wine, "Now that the war is over and the Dragon Queen is on the Iron throne, _the Young Wolf_ wishes to marry one of you lot," he gestured towards a group of girls sitting near the front of the long tables, "To his uncle, Edmure Tully _and,"_ he added ungracefully, "he wants to take another one of you up to Winterfell with him, to marry one of his Northern Bannerman and for one of your offspring to marry one of his children."

"What?" she whispered, unable to feel anything around her. Bile rose in her throat and a panic so deep grew in her heart she had not thought herself capable of feeling so strongly.

"My lord," she called out loudly, aware of all the eyes in the room now on her, "Surely you mean to refuse? Robb Stark insulted our house—"

"I am well aware of what he did girl," her father snapped at her, annoyed at being interrupted, "Do you think I should refuse you half-wit? I don't see any other suitors coming up to our door asking for your hand, I am not blind! The King has won the war and now wishes to make amends for the wrong he committed. One of my grandchildren will either be a prince or a Queen, depending on the sex of the first babe one of you bares your Northern husband. One of my other daughters will become Lady of Riverrun that is far better than any of you could ever hope for, _girl._ "

"He is an oathbreaker!" she cried out, her voice rising, "He married a foreign healer—"

"What happened to you girl?" her father demanded, looking at her over his overly long nose, "You used to be one of the more bearable ones. Now your dumber than that dog that's always near you! Now shut that hole in your mouth and be thankful that I let you keep your tongue!"

A shot of ice sprung up Avariella's spine and a hatred so deep grew in her stomach she felt as though she were on fire. She shot her father the dirtiest look she could muster, before turning on her heel and storming out of the room, ignoring the glances sent her way. Her strides were short and fast, her heart pounding loudly in her ears as her blood boiled in her veins. She could feel a scream rising within her and it took everything in her too keep it in and then—

A sharp tug on her shoulder that caused her to turn around, her chest heaving with anger.

"What?" she snapped angrily, glaring at Olyvar.

Her older half-brother winced at her tone, before grasping onto her hand gently before she quickly snatched it away, the hatred in her eyes growing stronger.

"I just wanted to see if you were alright," he told her softly, his brown eyes concerned.

Avariella's anger quickly began to evaporate as she continued to stare at her half-brother and she felt a twinge of guilt in her chest.

"Thank you," she told him gently, "It's just that . . ." her voice drifted off into a whisper, the despair and grief in her eyes growing stronger by the moment."He's dead," she whispered softly, her eyes wide, "He's dead and _that man_ doesn't care. His own father. . ." she gulped loudly, the lump in her throat too large for her to speak.

Olyvar's eyes were filled with understanding as he looked at her and said, "You know father. . . that's. . . that's just how he is—"

"Is that supposed to make it better?" she asked him incredulously, taking a step back away from him.

"I—"

"Don't," she snapped, her eyes becoming unreadable, "Just don't."

* * *

The day that the King was too arrive came by painfully slowly and Avariella spent most of that time in her chambers, watching the changes be made from her window. She watched as guards shuffled around and servants scrubbed the floors to prepare for the _royal visit._

Only the King, his mother, his wife and both of his uncles were coming with them to the twins. It was said that the King's sister returned to Winterfell the moment the King in the North and the dragon queen stormed King's Landing. Sansa Stark's marriage to Tyrion Lannister— the only living Lannister besides Myrcella and Tommen— had been set aside and now they were both free. At least, if the stories were true.

Avariella had once wondered how the eldest Stark was like— how he looked like, what he liked doing. . . That had been in the beginning of the war, after the marriage pact had been made. She had wanted to leave the twins and if that meant marrying the Lord of Winterfell, then so be it. But then he became the King and all desire she had ever had to marry him had vanished. She was no queen, she knew this the same way she knew how to breathe. A lady, she could be and a dutiful wife and mother but a Queen? She had never cast it much thought, to her shame. Now, whenever Robb Stark was so much as mentioned around her she felt as though she were to be sick.

Each day leading up to his arrival was brutally long, and yet when the day finally came she felt as though no time had past at all. She had woken that morning drenched in sweat, heart heavy in her chest. She had changed into a plain brown dress with some embroidered vines and pinned two strands of her hair from the front of her head back. She looked awfully plain— easy to overlook. Just as she wanted.

She exited her chamber reluctantly and was immediately thrown into a noisy corridor, some of her remaining sisters and nieces talking excitedly amongst themselves. All of them were dressed in elaborate clothing and hairstyles and Avariella knew she was severely underdressed. Shirei and Roslin glanced at her from where they stood, talking too each other before they both quickly diverted their eyes.

"Why are you all sitting out here?" she called out.

Most of them shrugged at her uncaringly and she huffed in frustration, before pushing through the large group to exit the hall through the door, immediately taking a large gulp of air. She could hear their murmuring through the door and with a scowl she bounded down the stairs, her red hair bouncing on her shoulders. Down below was hardly better than upstairs, with all the servants moving about to get everything in order, her brothers moving around the area like hunters and she felt so _constricted_ she made quickly for the exit.

It was raining lightly when she made her way outside but she didn't care. Anything was better than the chaos inside. She glanced up at the sky, to the dark grey canvas that would have seemed so dark and endless if not for the sun threatening to break through at any moment. It seemed the rain would not last long. The river beneath them had never sounded so loud to her before and she made her way to the bridge so she could look down at it. The water seemed faster than usual as it poured down, almost as if it were trying to escape their impending guests. She smiled at the thought and wished so very much that she could just take a horse and go, leave this place before any of _them_ came along. Her hatred towards the Stark was like the river, strong and endless, with no sign of stopping anytime soon.

The rain eventually came to a stop, causing her to glance up at the sky to where the sun had began to break through the darkness. It was then she heard _it._ Her head snapped towards the west castle so fast she feared it would snap and though she could not fully see them, she could hear them. Could hear the distant cries of _The King in the North_ and the sounds of horses and men. Her heart dropped in her chest and just as she moved back to re-enter the castle to go to the great hall a voice cut over her.

"My lady," A servant said— Willem, she thought his name was, she wasn't sure— "Your father has asked me to bring you to escort the King and Queen to the east castle—"

 _Has he now?_ she thought bitterly.

"If you could please follow me," he finished, looking slightly unsure of himself.

It was a rare occasion to find a boy unsure of himself near a girl in the Twins and so even though she loathed the idea with every part of her being, she nodded limply and began to walk to the other side of the bridge, towards the West castle.

* * *

The west castle, though usually quieter than the east due to majority of Walder Frey's offspring residing there, was now alive with laughter and the banter of men. Stark Banner's were littered all over the castle, though she could see some Frey banners peaking out from the corner of her eye. They moved past all the men gathered around in the castle, towards the great hall.

The burning feeling in her stomach began to uncoil itself and spread within her like a disease. _Calm yourself_ she thought, grasping her hands together. It did little to ease her nerves and her stomach began to flutter, making her feel as though she were about to be sick.

The great, wooden doors that led to the great hall opened and they moved in slowly, as though they were about to approach a boar. Directly in front of her stood a group of people and the moment she caught sight of the renowned auburn hair of House Tully she quickly kneeled, and could hear Willem beside her do the same though less gracefully.

They had caught the groups attention now and she could see a pairs of boots shuffle closer towards them before she ducked her head even lower, so that she was staring directly at the floor.

"Rise," a young, deep voice said.

Avariella insides clenched at the sound but slowly she rose and spoke softly, "Your grace, Lord Walder Frey has asked as to escort you to the east castle where he awaits you, unfortunately his poor health prevents him from greeting you himself."

She lifted her head too meet his gaze and the burning feeling flared dangerously within her, yet she was careful to keep it buried beneath the surface. The rumours of Robb's Starks good looks were not wrong, she grudgingly admitted to herself. He was a tall man, with a lean yet muscular build hidden under his armour and fur cloak. His hair was curled a top of his head and long as well, hanging low on his forehead. It was the Tully colour she had heard about and with a quick flicker to the side she caught a glimpse of his lady mother. His cheekbones were high and his nose fit his face well but it was his eyes that caught her attention. They were the strongest shade of blue she had ever seen in her life, not watery like her fathers or cloudy like some of her brothers, but a strong, unwavering shade that could capture any young maiden's heart, except hers.

"Thank you for your hospitality," a kind, female voice said and Avariella dragged her gaze away from Robb Starks to stare intently at the beautiful female next too him. With her long, brown hair that was pulled into a firm braid and tanned, smooth skin with a pair of warm brown eyes, it was not hard to see why Robb Stark had fallen in love with her.

"House Frey thanks you for coming, your grace" she replied, and her voice sounded stiff even to her ears. She could see the servant boy cast her a wary glance from he corner of her eye, yet she made no move to make herself sound more welcoming.

Her gaze flickered around the room to find one more woman,— Catelyn Stark, she assumed, whose grief made her look even more beautiful than that one time Avariella had caught one, small glimpse of her all those years ago— there was an older man there as well, with long greying hair and a long, solemn face, though his eyes were the same shade of blue as King Robb's. _The Blackfish_ she realised, and her heart clenched tightly in her chest as she remembered how her brother had once admired him so greatly, swearing to her to one day become as great and as well-known as him. A younger man stood next to him, who still had an indignant scowl on his face. With his auburn hair and blue eyes, Avariella knew she was staring at Lord Edmure Tully. Their gazes met across the room and the scowl on his face dimmed slightly, his mouth opening into a gape.

"My lords, my lady," she adressed them, her voice soft, "It is a pleasure to see all of you are well after the war, House Frey prayed greatly for all of your safe returns." That was a lie, and judging by the slightly amused glint in the Blackfish's eyes they knew it as well.

"Are you a daughter of Lord Walder Frey?" the blackfish asked, his voice gruff.

Avariella cast a small glance towards Lord Edmure, before nodding slightly, "Yes, my lord, I am one of his seven remaining true born daughters still living at the Frey's."

The look the blackfish sent his nephew was one of both disgust and triumph, as Lord Edmure's unappeased face brightened considerably as he stared at her. Avariella tried very hard to not snap at the older man, carefully masking her annoyance with him. Yet she was undeniably amused, the _Young Wolf_ wished to make amends by forcing his uncle to marry a girl far too ugly for him to ever marry.

"Your name?" King Robb asked gently.

Her hazel eyes flickered towards his as she replied, "Avariella, your grace."

It was becoming more and more unbearable to keep up her polite facade so she quickly suggested, "Shall we make our leave your grace?"

He nodded at her solemnly and it was in that moment that she saw a flicker of surprise in his blue eyes, one that made the rage within her flare under her skin. The moment was gone the moment he saw that she had seen it, and so he looked away from her towards his wife. She was indeed one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen, that was undeniable.

She quickly turned on her heel and made her way out of the hall, not checking whether or not they followed.

* * *

"Your grace," her lord father croaked from his seat, leering at the group. Avariella was now standing near the back of the group of daughters gathered near the front of the room, though she still had a clear view of them all. She remembered the wary glances that had been sent her way when she had entered the great hall, almost as if they all were expecting her to come back with their heads in between her teeth. Lord Edmure kept on looking at them with a poorly concealed look of horror on his face. Avariella studied Roslin out of the corner of her eye, who was staring at Edmure intently, a flush rising to her cheeks.

 _I would have been doing the same a year ago,_ she thought dully, the lump in her throat growing.

"Lord Walder," King Robb replied, his blue eyes firmly placed on her father, "I wronged you during the war and I wish to attempt to seek amends. Your house served me valiantly during the war and I repaid that kindness by dishonouring our agreement. If you would be so kind as to allow me."

A servant came with a tray of bread and salt and offered it to the group.

"My honoured guests," her father droned, "Be welcome within my walls and at my table. I extend to you my hospitality and protection in the light of the seven."

Once their guest right had been sealed, Robb Stark continued on, "We thank you for your hospitality, Lord Walder. If you would allow me to apologise—"

"It is not me you should apologise too," her father interrupted rudely, "It is too my girls."

King Robb studied them all silently, his blue eyes unreadable. Lord Walder gestured his hands for them to move into a single line and Avariella moved slowly behind Roslin, turning to face them.

"One of them was supposed to be Queen," her father continued, "And none of them are."

The fire in her veins grew as she stared at the group in front of her intently, her jaw tightening as she bit on her cheek in order to keep herself from yelling at him.

"That is the eldest of my daughters Wyona," her father croaked from behind her. Avariella glanced down the line to look at her eldest sister, who had jumped frightfully at the mention of her name. King Robb apologised to her gently, yet the words that fell out of his mouth sounded as though he had spent hours rehearsing them. Her father continued on down the list, introducing his granddaughters—some of whose names she did not even know— and then went back to his daughters. Waldra, whom looked as though she would faint if she so much as looked in his direction, Gerna, Marianne, another Waldra and then to Roslin. At the sight of her Edmure's face brightened so considerably it was though someone had just offered him all the gold in the world. And then, he landed on her.

"My second youngest daughter, Avariella at age ten and seven, your grace."

Avariella looked the King in the eyes and hated. She hated the mere sight of him with a passion so strong she did not bother hiding it. She hated him and he knew. _Damn him,_ she thought and just as he opened is mouth to offer his insincere apologies she snapped. In that moment she did not care for curtsies or being polite or unnoticeable, all she cared about was hurting him.

"I had a brother," she said, her voice limp and dull sounding. Her hazel eyes fluttered up to meet his and the hatred she felt boiling in her belly was unlike anything Avariella had ever felt before. It burned her insides as though she had swallowed a ball of fire and the savage urge she had to rip his heart from his chest was only matched by her grief.

"A twin," she clarified, letting out a loud breath, her eyes growing hazy as she thought of her brother, "He was my whole world and he died in your service, your grace." Her eyes flickered towards the Queen and her hatred grew even stronger, though she had thought it would not be possible. Her mouth tasted of bitterness and sorrow and the words that exited her burned her tongue.

"I begged him not to go," she said, her voice catching with emotion at the memory. Robb Stark looked as though he were ashamed and the feeling that shot through her was one of great satisfaction.

"I _begged_ him not to. Don't go, I told him, for I fear you will not come back. Why die for a man who you barely even know?" A bitter laugh escaped her lips as she met his eyes once more, "Ahh, he told me, for one of you will know him and become his queen. Possibly dying for my future brother would be a worthy death would it not?" Avariella shook her head, her anguish evident on her face.

Hatred blinded all other thought as she stared at the man, at the King and the words that exited her lips may have well been daggers for how sharp and painful they were.

"You made his death worthless," she told him, her voice empty, sad tears forming in her eyes. "You made him nothing more than a—" Her voice caught with emotion and she wiped angrily at her eyes, "I will never forgive you," she vowed, "Never."

"My lady I am sorry—"

"Don't," she said harshly, raising a hand to prevent him from speaking. _Damn him_ she thought viscously, her hands curling into fists, _Damn him being a King. Damn his home, damn his brothers and sisters, damn his crown. Just damn him._

"Save your apologies for someone who wants to hear them," she spat at him, "Oathbreaker."

He winced at that, as did the Queen. His lady mother however, looked both outraged and pitiful.

A hand curled around her wrist and she looked up to see Black Walder pulling at her wrist, his face pale. She cast one last glance towards the King and his Queen and muttered, "Excuse me, your grace."

The room was deadly quiet as she left and Avariella needn't look at her father to know that he was outraged. The little she had seen from her sisters and brothers had been looks of shock and pity, as though they did not know whether to cry, laugh, or warn her to stop. They left the hall then and by the time the doors closed behind them her wrist began to throb because of Black Walder's grip.

"Your hurting me," she murmured.

"I don't care," he snapped at her, his face red with fury, "Do you have any idea the damage you've caused?" he asked her furiously, "The chances of him wanting to marry one of us to one of his uncle are even lower now because of you—"

"His uncle?" she asked incredulously, "Father mustn't be too happy with that—"

He slapped her hard on the mouth, her head snapping to the side. She could taste the blood from her lip, her cheek throbbing. She raised a hand to cup her cheek, her hazel eyes cold as she looked at her older half brother.

"Perhaps that will snap some sense into ya!" He spat at her, his eyes nearly black with fury.

She didn't answer and instead merely looked at him, her eyes blank. He shifted under her gaze, a flush rising on his face, "Go, wherever it is that you go in your spare time."

She fled from him without a glance back, her heart pounding in her chest. She grabbed a hold of her skirts and ran as fast as she could out of the castle. She brushed past servants and soldiers and yet she did not stop. She felt as though her heart was trying to rip its way out of her body— as though her grief were too strong for it to handle.

She didn't stop until she had reached the apple orchard and she fled down a row of trees, ignorant of the startled glances being sent her way. She did not stop running until she had reached the end of the orchard, towards their tree.

Her heart ached so strongly in her chest as she looked at it and she collapsed against it, a sob leaving her mouth.

She hated the King for winning the war, she hated the Dragon Queen for taking the Iron throne, she hated her brother for leaving her all alone but most of all— above all, she missed him more than she knew how to live with.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she thought of her brother, of her twin brother and though he died a year before her grief had not lessened since the day she found out.

 _Avos,_ she thought dully, _Why did you leave me all alone?_

She sunk onto the damp ground, her red curls tumbling down her shoulders.

 _Like the colour of the apples we grow,_ he had told her once, grinning. The thought nearly made her smile. Avos had been her other half, all the members of the Frey household had always joked about them being two sides of the same coin, inseparable since they came out of their mother's womb.

 _Look at us now,_ she thought bitterly, _one in the grave rotting and the other a living corpse._

Sadness seeped through her at the thought and the tears streaming from her eyes did not stop. This place had once been a haven for her and her brother, a place of adventure and dreams. A place where they could forget who they were— where they came from— _who_ they came from and simply be happy. Be able to smile and laugh and dream of a life with a father who loved them and with siblings who weren't bastards and murderers and rapists or foolish girls who were dumber than a pig.

There they could simply be happy but it didn't feel that way anymore. She glanced around and felt as though the tree's were closing in on her, trapping her inside a cell, to be alone and cold for the rest of her life. The orchard that had once been an escape now served only as a ghost for all she had lost.

Yet she did not move from under the tree, she sat there until her tears ran dry and the ache in her chest dimmed ever so slightly. What her brother had said before was only partially true; Not only was the King there to help his uncle chose a bride, he was also there to take a daughter of Walder Frey up to the North with him, where she was to be married off to some Northern Lord and her daughter or son would be married off to one of his own children, depending on the sex of the babe.

The Queen had been with child before, if the whispers were true, but she had apparently lost the babe due to stress and since then it was said that they did not want a child until the war was over.

Her mouth tasted bitter when she thought of the Queen and though she did not want too, a silver of shame formed in her stomach, burning her cheeks.

 _You simple minded fool_ she cursed herself, _What in all the seven hells are you doing? You rude, insolent little girl._

She had always prided herself on being a polite girl, with better manners than most of her siblings yet when she had insulted the King she had not cared of her curtsies or her manners. Guilt hung heavy over her head, her siblings—while most were rude and uncouth— some were sweet and kind and her heart twinged with shame at the bad thoughts she had of them. _Roslin,_ she thought sadly and _Shirei and Olyvar were kind and well, bearable. Even now, after all this time._

They had all been very close growing up, despite them being half siblings. Avos and her had been born too Walder Frey's seventh wife, a daughter of a minor Lord of the Riverlands who Walder Frey had impregnated while his sixth wife was still with child— Roslin— and wed her quickly after Bethany Rosby died. She did not remember her mother, for she had died birthing her and Avos, something her and Roslin shared in common.

Roslin and her had shared a close bond, closer than she shared for any of her other sisters but nothing to that of which she had with her twin. Olyvar was her favourite brother besides Avos, with his passionate and loyal nature and Shirei, the youngest of her sisters, who possessed more kindness in her little finger than half of her siblings possessed in their entire body.

They had all been fiercely close, comforting each other and raising Shirei as best they could before Avos had died. That had changed everything for them. When Olyvar and Avos had ridden off to war with Robb Stark her and Roslin had discussed the worry both of them felt at the loss of their two brothers.

Pain burned her heart as she remembers their conversations in the middle of the night in darkness, hushed whispers of frightened terrors of dead brothers and marriage to a man they did not even know. Her and Roslin were the better looking of their sisters— that had been told to them since they had been old enough to walk—yet Avariella had never really cared for it.

It was something she accepted and was admittedly grateful for, that she could not protest. Her father was a disgusting man— she knew this as well as she knew how to breathe— and though she loved him, she knew his features were not attractive nor welcoming. Nor would their name grant them any favours with the other Lords and their prospects of marriage due to the Frey's renowned looks and manners.

Roslin was said to look like her mother, with her thin, pale face and doe like brown eyes and brown, thick hair that tumbled down to her waist. She was pretty, that was undeniable. Avariella felt a sliver of hope fill her heart and she hoped that Edmure picked her to be his bride. If anyone from their family could be the lady of Riverrun, it was Roslin.

Avariella knew she had blown her chances the moment the words had left her mouth and for that she was grateful, if not slightly disappointed deep down. The thought of being Edmure Tully's bride would have once made her happy— because not only would she have a decent husband, she would also be able to leave the Twins— the thought now made her cringe in disgust.

Avos's face drifted into her head and her heart clenched tightly once more causing her to gulp loudly in discomfort. _I miss you brother,_ she thought, her heart heavy with grief. It was the only thing she was sure of anymore.

 **A/N Hi guys. . . this story was not supposed to happen. I am currently supposed to be studying but I took a break or two and this happened. Lol okay but anyway, i hoped you guys liked this. Tell me your thoughts in reviews or PM. Thanks again!**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

By the time Avariella made it back into the castle, the sun had begun to set. The sky had started to turn into a canvas of orange and dill yellows, and a soft breeze swept through the Twins. By that time her tears had dried, though her cheek still throbbed, and she could still taste the blood near her mouth from her cut. Black Walder had done far worse to others, that she knew, but that had been the first time her bastard brother had ever hit her.

That had been the first time any of her brothers, true or base born, had ever hit her. Strangely enough, it didn't phase as much as she thought it would, whenever she had thought her brothers capable of hitting their sisters. She felt no hurt or pain in her heart, the only thing that was painful was her cheek. Avariella knew her eyes were red-rimmed and wet, and undoubtedly a bruise had begun to form on the side of her cheek and when she lifted her hand to her face as she walked, it had begun to swell as well.

She traced the bruised area with her fingers, nearly wincing at the pain. She dropped her hand the moment she reached the gates of the castle, and she was suddenly hit with the realisation that she would have to sneak in so that no one would see the bruise on her face. _No doubt the honourable King in the North wouldn't like that; a brother hitting his sister for her rudeness_ she thought bitterly, a small scowl making its way onto her face.

She could hear their loud voices even from out there, could hear the distant sounds of laughter and from where she stood she could see the Water Tower peeking out from behind the East castle, and its windows were lit with candles. The Water Tower was only used for royal or important guests, and she remembered going outside in the weeks before the King's arrival and watching the servants clean the tower. Bringing in new silk sheets and dusting and washing floors. Avariella could not remember the last time the Water Tower was used, she knew it _had been_ used of course, at some point, but not in her lifetime. _It was slightly strange,_ she thought, _that tower has been dead all my life, and now it is alive with the people I want—_

She frowned at herself, her stomach churning at the direction of her thoughts. She hated them, there was no doubt in her heart about that, but wishing them dead was a whole other matter. One which she had come across when she first found out of Robb Stark's betrayal after her brother's death. Avariella remembered how she had inwardly cursed him, how she had prayed to the gods for vengeance. For him to know her grief, to know how she felt. It was then that she had remembered the deaths of the two Stark boys months prior, and how even in her grief filled state she felt guilty for wishing such a fate on children. It turned out that they were not dead of course, the news had emerged when the King in the North and the Dragon Queen had taken Kings Landing. That Theon Greyjoy had never killed them in the first place, and had burned two farm boy's instead so his men would not know that he failed.

She knew that the youngest had been returned to them, but the second eldest son— Bran, she thought his name was— had left his brother with their wildling caretaker to go somewhere unknown to them. Arya Stark had returned to her mother and brother in the Riverlands, with Sandor Clegane at her side, if the rumours of her companion's identity were true. Avariella felt bitterness course through her body as her fists clenched at her side. Robb Stark won the war, and got out of it nearly unscathed. He got his vengeance for his father and brother, and the ill-treatment of his sister and now he was marching home with the woman he loved, where he would be safe and warm in his castle. A burnt castle, but anything broken can be rebuilt, and Avariella knew that Winterfell was not beyond repair, even if it had been burnt to the ground by the Ironborn. The thought of Robb Stark getting to see thirty and fifty, and getting to hold his sons and daughters in his arms while her brother rotted in the ground was enough to make her want to scream and claw at her eyes in anger and grief.

She gazed at the East castle once more and knew instinctively that she would not be able to enter through the main door unseen. The only other entrance inside the castle that was relatively close to her chamber stairs was near the side of the looming castle, the back door. Avariella did not like the idea of going through the courtyards and the training pen alone, but knew she had no other choice. If the castle hallways stunk of mead and sex, the courtyards and pens were far. far worse. It was always cluttered together, an odour of sweat and mud always lingering in the air. Avariella had lost count of how many times she had unwillingly stumbled upon two people fucking in the alleyways and flinched at the memory of when she had caught a servant girl and one of her baseborn brother's having sex in the stables. She was hesitant to go there ever since. And yet Avariella knew she had no choice, and that if she was seen with a bruise on her face her father would grow even more angrier with her and have worse done to her than a mere bruise on her face. _Always a paragon of kindness and understanding, my father_ she thought and began to walk to the right, away from the main entrance of the castle.

Her hair flew into her face and she brushed it aside quickly, tucking a strand behind her ear. She kept her head ducked as to hide the mark on her face and walked quickly. The odour immediately hit her nose and she resisted the urge to cough loudly, not wanting to draw attention to herself. She could hear the sounds of swords clanging together, and cups of mead slamming together, drunken laughter following immediately afterwards. She was as stiff as a tree, and had wrapped her arms around her, as though she were protecting herself. She could feel their eyes on her body as she walked, could feel them leering at her and it made her insides clench with disgust. _Almost there,_ she reassured herself, and made herself walk faster, so that she was almost jogging. Whenever she ventured down here, rare as it was, she always had Max be brought to her before she did. Her dog was loyal and feared throughout the Twins because of—

"My lady," _his_ voice groaned, and she halted in her step because he had side stepped in front of her, clutching a cup of mead in his hands. _Think of the man and he shall appear_ she thought and made no effort to try and hide her disdain.

"Ser Trent," she replied coldly, eyeing the door behind him, "A pleasure to see you."

He took a large, messy gulp from his tankard and she watched as some of the mead escaped his lips and dribbled down his scarred chin. He wiped at it with his sleeve and swayed from right to left, barely able to stand on his legs.

"What is a lady like you doing here by herself?" he asked, his mud brown eyes leering at her as he eyed her chest.

"Walking," she answered shortly, and lifted her head to look him directly in the eye. _Don't show him that your afraid,_ she told herself, _he will use it against you as he did before._

His eyes darted from her cleavage up to her face and he rudely gestured at it, "What happened to your pretty face?"

"I fell, Ser," she told him flatly, and moved to go around him, before his hand latched onto her elbow.

"Don't you know its dangerous for you to be here all by yourself?" he asked, leaning dangerously forward, his grip tightening on her wrist.

 _Don't be afraid, don't be afraid,_ she chanted inwardly.

"I remember," she said darkly, and glanced meaningfully at the hand latched onto her elbow, where two fingers were missing. His cheeks reddened at the memory and he instantly let her go, and took a step away from her.

"That dog of your's is dangerous," he spat at her, his mead spilling on the ground.

"Only to those who wish to harm me, Ser," she said, and watched in satisfaction as his face paled with fear.

He stumbled away from her, and she took the opportunity to hurry into the castle, her heart pounding heavily in her chest. She turned a corner and stopped walking, fear and relief making her muscles sag and her legs feel like feathers. She leaned against the wall to support herself and lifted her heart to her chest, and felt as though it were about to rip out of it, it was beating so fast. She remembered that night, remembered his clammy hands clutching at her body. She was haunted by the fear in her veins, by the feeling of his weight on top of her body as she struggled to get away. Avariella remembered how Max had bitten at his fingers, tearing two of them right off. She remembered scrambling back on all fours, her dress torn and her hair haphazard. She could still hear his snarls, and how his snout was stained with blood. She thought of how Ser Trent had withered on the ground in pain, and how Roslin had wrapped her in a cloak. It was a wonder Max had been allowed to live.

That had been nearly two years ago, a few months after Avos and Olyvar had ridden off to war and Avariella was not surprised by how it haunted her still.

She took a deep breath, and waited for her heart to calm. Once it did, and what was little of her strength returned to her, she forced herself off the wall unsteadily but pushed herself forward until she reached the chamber corridor and practically limped her way down to her room. The hall was eerily quiet as she walked down it, and it occurred to her that most of her sisters and nieces were probably still down in the great hall, talking to Edmure Tully in the hopes that they would be his bride.

Avariella pushed the door open and managed to stumble into the room and collapsed onto the bed, and curled into a ball. _It's over_ she thought, _its done._ It occurred to Avariella that she was far more affected by the incident now than she had been after it had happened. She had been scared and wary of course, and seldom did anything without Max accompanying her, but she had been comforted by the fact that when Avos and Olyvar returned, they would protect her. They would bring him to justice even though her father did not and the thought made her smile. Then Olyvar had returned with the rest of his brothers and not with the one she wanted there the most and she had made Roslin and Shirei promise to never speak of it too him. The rest of the household had nearly forgotten, or simply had not cared enough to mention it.

She clutched at the furs beneath her fingers, and held onto it as though it were her anchor. She breathed in and out softly, and waited for the feeling to fade away. Her eyes began too droop and she managed to shift herself beneath the furs, but not before removing her boots. She closed her eyes and welcomed the darkness that awaited her, when their was a knock on the door. Her eyes opened hesitantly, her heart jumping in her chest. Her room was pitch black, the sun having set and no candles were lit. She forced herself out of bed, and rubbed at her eyes before opening the door to reveal a nervous Roslin. The light from the hall blinded her eyes for a moment, and she blinked rapidly to adjust. The sight of her elder sister was a slight shock to her and the moment her eyes had adjusted she looked at her suspiciously. Her sister's honey coloured hair fell down her shoulders, though the upper half had been pulled up into a intricate bun. _No doubt Shirei's work,_ she thought to herself, _she always did have a talent for doing hair._ Avariella ignored the voice that whispered, _because you taught her._ Roslin's dress was a warm shade of brown, with embroidered leaves spreading from her arms to around her chest. She looked every bit as beautiful as Avariella knew her to be and a small sliver of proudness crept into her heart as she looked at her.

Standing next to her, Avariella was suddenly aware of how disgruntled she looked, with her tangled red hair tumbling down her back, and her bruised face and dress whose skirts were stained with mud.

"What is it?" she asked her quietly.

Roslin flushed under her gaze and began to play with her hands, "Father has asked for _all_ of his daughters to be at the feast this evening. You are the only one who is not there." She fidgeted uncomfortably and Avariella knew she was not done yet. Roslin swallowed as if on cue, and muttered, "He also ask's me to tell you that you are expected, to apologise to the King and Queen for your rudeness. They are currently in the Water Tower preparing for the feast, father expects you to be down before then, so he may speak to you as well." More like berate her and insult her, and by the way Roslin did not meet her eyes, she knew it too. Avariella sighed loudly and muttered, "Tell father I will be down as soon as I can. I will need to make myself more presentable."

At that, Roslin finally looked up at her face and gasped loudly, lifting a hand to her mouth.

"What. . ." she whispered, horror etched out onto her delicate features, "Who did that to you?"

"Doesn't matter," Avariella said shortly and they were both silent for a while.

"I can. . ." Roslin started hesitantly, her cheeks flushing a bright red. "I can help, if you'd like," she offered weakly, wringing her hands. Avariella gazed at her, and something inside her softened. The resolve she had weakened inside her as she stared at her sister, and was suddenly bombarded with memories of how close they used to be. Of how they would spend hours each day braiding each other's hair and complaining about their Septa and how boring learning about each house was. _We were like sisters once,_ Avariella thought, her throat thick with emotion.

"That. . ." She cleared her throat, and smiled softly, the first smile she had given to Roslin in close to a year— or anyone else for that matter, "That's all right, thank you for the offer though."

Roslin swallowed uncomfortably, and looked away from her. Avariella knew she was stung by the rejection, but she couldn't. . . bare being near any of her previously close siblings for too long. It made the grief inside her unbearable, until she was drowning in it, with no hope of ever reaching the surface again.

* * *

Avariella changed quickly, shrugging off her brown, plain gown and her small clothes and quickly dressed into another. This dress was a black one, and was more tight around her waist, and more formal. It's skirts swished as she moved, and the silk was soft under her skin as she traced the edge with her hand, marvelling at it. She let her hair tumble down her back, unpinned and wild so as to hide her bruised cheek. She had wiped off the blood moments before, wincing at the slight pain. She had no powder's to use, for she had never seen the use of it nor liked it either.

She brushed her hair quickly, removing the tangles and tossed it back onto the table and with one last glance in the mirror hanging on the wall, she made herself take a deep breath to calm herself. No doubt her dear, lord father would wish to punish her for her insolence earlier. _Be strong,_ she thought fiercely and blew out the candle she had lit near the bed, and walked out her chamber, her heart as heavy as a boulder in her chest.

* * *

The great hall had been largely rearranged since earlier in the day. Usually, the long tables which were usually turned so that they ate facing the wall, were now turned so that they looked up at the high table, where her father was currently sitting, his new young bride standing next to him, a sullen expression on her face.

Candles were lit around the room, and the tables were littered with golden plates and utensils. Avariellea was careful to hide her surprise at the extravagant decorations, she had always thought her father would wait until the wedding to make an impression, or to put in an effort to make the hall look more formal than it usually did. Most of her siblings were sitting on the left side of the room, the right was empty, waiting for their _honoured_ guests to take their seats, whenever they arrived.

Avariella ignored the glances that were sent her way as she walked down the aisle in between the tables, her head held high. Her father was drinking from his cup— no doubt the liquid being wine— and glanced up at her, a scowl forming on his pale face. His wife looked between them nervously, her lower lip beginning to tremble. Avariella looked at her intently as she approached the high table, and came to the realisation that she had never actually had a proper conversation with her good mother, at least not a conversation alone. As a matter of fact, as she thought about it, she couldn't remember her name. _What was it?_ she thought, trying to contain her frustration, _Joyeuse. That's it!_

She nodded at her good mother politely though she did not return he sentiment, too frozen with fear to do anything.

"Lord Walder," she called out, her voice echoing across the now silent hall, "You wished too speak with me."

Her father grunted loudly, and coughed, his hunched shoulders shaking with the movement. He eyed her with his watery eyes, the bridge of his nose red and his cheeks flushed. A scowl formed on his thin, dry lips and he looked at her with such distaste and annoyance Avariella nearly shrunk back and winced.

"What happened to your face?" he questioned, his eyes lingering on the bruise. Though Avariella knew it was not out of concern or worry for her, but more that he did not want the King in the North to accuse him of abusing his _dear, darling innocent_ daughters, even if it was one who insulted him. She stiffened at the question, and refused the urge to cup her cheek and hide it from his gaze. For a moment she nearly considered lying to him, but a sudden anger pierced through her as she thought of Black Walder.

"My dear, darling elder brother did this, the lovely fellow who escorted me out of the hall earlier today," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "I believe his words were—Perhaps that will snap some sense into ya? Was that it?" she asked, a smile forming on her face as she turned to look at Black Walder, who was eyeing her furiously.

"Is that true?" her father croaked, staring at his eldest bastard son.

Black Walder's eyes never left hers.

"I did it in a fit of rage, father, because she shamed you in front of our guests—"

"You bloody fool," her father snapped loudly, his blue eyes flashing, "She is one of the prettiest of my offspring! We can not have her gallivanting around with a large bruise on her face, can we? The Stark boy would walk out of here within a blink of an eye if he knew, you useless—" her father broke out into a fit of coughing then, and did not bother to cover his mouth.

Avariella watched her father, and observed Walder Frey in all of his glory. His scalp was balding, his nose was more like a beak and he could barely manage to say a few sentences without coughing.

"And you!" he spat venomously, his voice wheezy and he glared at her furiously, "You will apologise to the King and Queen for your comments earlier today—"

"I will not," she snapped. It was as though a bucket of ice water had been poured over her head, and a fire had been lit inside her at the same time.

" _You will,"_ he warned, glaring at her.

"No," she refused, taking a step away from the table, "I won't apologise for telling them what they really are!"

"YOU WILL APOLOGISE IF I SAY SO!" her father yelled, and rose from his chair, causing it too scrap back against the floor loudly. Avariella stared at him in shock, a lump forming in her throat.

"If you do not apologise and beg for forgiveness I will have that bloody dog of your's killed and wear his pet every day! I will then have his stupid little head put on a spike, is that clear girl?" he snapped, his eyes flaring at her.

Avariella swallowed loudly at that, and clasped her hands together. The hatred inside her burned through her throat to her stomach, eliminating all other feeling within her. She hated him, in a way that she never thought a daughter could.

"You may make me say the words," she said softly, lifting her eyes to meet his, her voice hard and her eyes unforgiving in their hatred, "But I will not mean them. I will _never_ mean them. I may beg for forgiveness and inwardly wish that their heads were on spikes. I will say the words, but they will not be genuine. And for you, dear father," she said, her voice dropping deadly low, "I hope you realise how unloved and unwanted you truly are, even by your own children."

The hall was scarily silent after her words, and the waves of guilt that came over her was enormous, but she did not apologise. Her father looked momentarily shocked as well, his eyes widened and his skin became deathly pale.

"My lord," a wary voice called out from behind them, they all turned back to glance at the servant who interrupted the family _meeting_ and he flushed under all of their gazes, "The King is here."

Her father fronted loudly and one more became his usual, crass self.

"Send him in," her father commanded and Avariella took that moment to treat from the high table, and walk towards an empty seat near the middle of the rows, aware of all of her siblings eyes on her. _What did you just do?_ she thought incredulously. She drummed her fingers against the wooden table, and from the corner of her eye could see Roslin staring at her worriedly, biting on her lower lip. Avariella did not care to comfort her as she stared down at the plate laid out in front of her.

She heard the distant sound of the great hall door opening, and it was only when Roslin nudged her shoulder did she realise that they were all standing up, except for her. She rose hastily from her seat, and turned to face the aisle, where King Robb and Queen Talisa, Lady Catelyn, her brother and her uncle were walking down. A few northern lords followed behind them, all of them wearing great fur cloaks. The Queen was easily one of the most beautiful people in the room, with her hair now tumbling down her shoulders instead of in the firm braid it was before, yet her gown was still the same. Lady Catelyn had not changed at all however, yet despite the hard lines of grief on her face Avariella could easily see her beauty, despite how hard and stern it seemed to be. Edmure Tully was determined not to look in their direction, it seemed, as he stared determinedly at her lord father and spared no glance at them. King Robb did not share the same sentiment however, his eyes lingering on the left side of the room. She watched as his gaze danced around all of them, and the warm feeling in her stomach uncoiled quickly, spreading within her like wildfire. His eyes stopped moving however, when he landed on her. Their eyes met across the room, and Avariella's insides clenched at the contact, and the mere thought of her having to apologise to _him._

She glanced away from him, breaking their eye contact to stare at her Lord father, who was watching the King closely, his typical expression of boredom and rudeness planted on his face. Yet Avariella knew her father well, and could see how the the line in his neck had just started to fade, and how his hand clutched at the arm of his chair tightly. She did not know whether or not his anger was directed at her, or the King, yet she assumed the former and knew that he had not forgotten her words.

"Your grace," her father called out once they had reached the high table, "Let this night be the beginning of the newfound peace between our houses," he coughed loudly but managed to continue, "With your permission—" _cough,_ "Shall the feast commence?"

King Robb withdrew his hand from the Queen's and took a step closer to the high table, and his voice sounded near-joyful as he spoke, "Let the feast commence, Lord Walder. We thank you for your hospitality."

Her father grunted loudly in return, and with a wave of his hand, the musicians began to play and the wine began to pour. The room almost immediately went alive with laughter and talk, but Avariella kept her eyes trained on them. They sat down down in the front row and Avariella dragged her eyes away from them, frowning all the while.

"Father said that we each have to dance with Lord Edmure," Roslin told her quietly, taking a sip of wine from her cup. Avariella glanced at her, her features darkening, "Did he now?"

Roslin frowned at her, worry etched onto her face, "Avariella you have already done enough, father will hurt you if you do anything else."

"I merely told them what they really are," she said softly, gazing down at her empty plate.

"Well one of us will be marrying Lord Edmure," Roslin sighed softly, and Avariella did not miss the wistfulness in her tone. Anger pierced her heart as well as understanding as she looked at her elder sister, and the sudden fierceness and determination that took over her, surprised her. _Roslin you will get out of here if it is the last thing I do,_ she thought, _she is one of the few Frey's who doesn't deserve this life._

She glanced across the room to where the group sat, and though her heart hated the very thought of it, she knew she had to apologise. With a sudden burst of bravery she didn't know she had, she gulped down her wine in one, long gulp and slammed it back down onto the table, starling Roslin. She leaped up from her chair, the wine making her more bold and grabbed onto Roslin's hand, pulling her up.

"Avariella what—"

"We are going to go talk to the King," she interrupted, walking towards the group, her strides quick and swift even though she was dragging Roslin behind her.

"No—" Roslin barely managed to get the word out of her mouth before Avariella had stopped in front of the group, planting a wide smile on her face. She let go of Roslin's hand, and curtsied, her eyes focused on the ground.

"Your grace," Avariella announced loudly, grabbing their attention. She did not miss the look of surprise that appeared in the King's eyes, or the lingering anger in his mothers. The Queen simply looked regal and elegant but her eyes were slightly dazed, as though she was looking right _through_ her instead of _at_ her. Lord Edmure eyed them and looked pleased, a smile of welcome forming on his face.

"My lady," the King returned, his deep voice calm and even.

Avariella forced the smile on her face to become more softer, and transformed her features into one of regret and grief.

"Your grace I owe both you and the Queen an apology," she said tenderly, her eyes gently meeting his blue ones, "My actions and words earlier today were done out of grief and mourning for my brother. I needed someone to blame for his death," her voice caught at that, and she fiddled with her hands. She could see Roslin look at her suspiciously, her eyes wide and doe like with a flush appearing on her cheeks. _Roslin,_ she cursed inwardly, _I'm trying to help you._

She gestured towards Roslin and continued, "My sweet elder sister has helped me see the light your grace. Her kindness and wisdom is truly an inspiration to us all here at the Frey's," the words were sickly sweet in her mouth, and Avariella resisted the urge too laugh. The King's lips curled up at that, and even the seriousness in his mother's eyes faded just a touch. Roslin's face turned as red as Lady Catelyn's hair but Avariella made sure to keep her eyes on the King. The humour disappeared from his face, however, and she saw his eyes darken as his gaze flickered to her bruised cheek.

"May I ask what happened to you, my lady, to cause you such injury?" Lady Catelyn asked from beside her son, her eyes growing dark and solemn once more.

"My lady I must say I fell—" _on my brother's fist_ "I was not paying attention to where I was going and I slipped and fell," she lied smoothly, being sure to keep the smile planted on her face.

"My lady," Lord Edmure called out, his voice slightly muffled and dragged, and Avariella wondered momentarily if he was already drunk on wine. "How many children has your father's current wife, Lady Joyuese born him? His youngest daughter was twelve I believe?"

 _Bloody fool,_ she thought and it took everything in her to hide her scowl. _I was a good little girl once_ she thought, _I remember the lessons my Septa taught me. Smile and hid your anger, child, she had said, for your emotions will be the death of you._

"Well considering Lady Joyuese is only three or four years older than my father's youngest true born daughter it would be impossible for her to be Shirei's mother," she replied instantly, and she saw Roslin's eyes widen at her. The Blackfish barked out a laugh at her words, and Lord Edmure's face flushed, and he shrunk back into his chair, nearly pouting like a child. The tune playing changed, and a lively river song began to play. People had already begun to dance near the centre of the room, where the width in the aisle was the longest.

"Such a pleasant tune," she commented brightly, and glanced at Roslin before focusing her gaze on Lord Edmure, "My lord do you like to dance?" They all eyed her cautiously and Lord Edmure nearly spluttered at her before replying uneasily, "Somewhat, my lady—"

"Splendid," she cried, smiling widely, "Roslin enjoy's dancing as well my lord, she is easily the best dancer out of all the women in the Frey's, especially at this dance, my lord."

Lord Edmure cast Roslin a glance and asked, "My lady would you wish to dance?"

Roslin blushed furiously and looked at her, her brown eyes wide and they whispered at her _what are you doing?_ She smiled softly at her, and for the first time since she had strung up the conversation it was almost genuine.

"Ah—Yes, my lord, I would be very honoured," Roslin replied. Avariella nodded at her and watched as Edmure rose from his chair and walked round the table to take her sister's hand and escort her to the growing crowd. A deep sense of satisfaction unfolded warmed her insides pleasantly, unlike how her hatred had burned throughout her, and her anger. It was then that she became aware of all the eyes still on her and with a false smile she curtsied and muttered, "Forgive me your grace, my queen, my lady and my lord, I must return to my supper before it gets to cold for it to be edible. Please excuse me." She waited until the King had nodded his consent before she turned on her heel because _she was a Lady and a Lady always remembered her curtsies, even if she was Frey._

* * *

The air around her grew dour and bitter due to her half-sisters and nieces. The reason for this being the sight of a giggling Roslin Frey and a smiling Edmure. Avariella had twisted in her chair so that she could gaze at them, and was pleased to find that they had not left each other's arms for close to an hour. _Father will not be pleased_ she mused, and glanced up at where her father was sitting and currently drinking from his cup of wine. _Probably near his twentieth cup or more,_ she contemplated, before glancing back at the happy couple once more. _Avos should be here._

The thought was a dagger in her heart. She turned so suddenly on her chair that she nearly fell over. _Avos should have seen this,_ she kept on thinking, _Avos should be here next too me and Olyvar and Roslin and Shirei and we should all be laughing at one of his jokes._ Her thoughts made the dagger in her heart twist deeper. All notion of satisfaction or peace that she felt mere moments before had vanished, and the wave of grief that overcame her was overwhelming. She lifted her hand to her throat and began to rub at it, trying to make it easier for her to breathe. The room had suddenly become unbearably warm and suffocating and it was all she could not to fall over and faint. _Do not break in front of them_ she hissed at herself.

Avariella had begun clutching the edge of the table, and her fingers had started to turn red due to the sheer strength she was using. It was then that she became aware of someone sliding into Roslin's chair beside her, and it was only until he spoke that she realised who it was.

"You've managed to anger not only our father but our sister's as well in one evening," Olyvar commented, his voice light yet his words were dark, "I don't know how you managed to do it, but you did."

Avariella snorted uncaringly, and glanced at her brother, her grip on the table weakening and she placed her hands in her lap. "Is that so?" she drawled out, arching a thin eyebrow at him, "As if whether or not I had done what I did would have made a difference. When he looked at her earlier it was as if someone offered him all the gold in the world."

Olyvar chuckled softly at that, but his eyes were piercing as he looked at her, and Avariella did not miss how grave they looked. "I trust you singing her praises also had something to do with it," he told her, his voice amused, "I never thought that would be something you would do—"

"I would sing Roslin's praises until my last breath if it meant him marrying her," she snapped, and the tension between them was unstable and unsettling.

"Yes but _why?"_ he asked, "You haven't exactly been the dutiful or welcoming sister for a year, Avariella. And even then you would not cheat—"

"How is it cheating if we all know who he was going to chose?" she cried out loudly, grabbing some of her siblings attention and so she quickly lowered her voice as she hissed, "I do not understand—"

"He could have chosen you," Olyvar pointed out bluntly.

Avariella scoffed at that and replied darkly, her voice a mere whisper as she leaned closer to her half brother so that he could hear her, " _If_ Edmure Tully had chosen me as his bride,I would fling myself into the river without a second thought. So then his next option would be Roslin. So, regardless of whether or not he did choose me— which he won't— the end result would always be Roslin."

Olyvar's face had grown deathly pale at her words, and it infuriated Avariella that his eyes were filled with pity and sorrow. He had just opened his mouth to speak before she quickly leapt up from her chair, and grabbed the front of her skirts, "If you will excuse me _my dear brother,_ I will take my leave now."

She left hurriedly and stormed down the hall, brushing past servants and people without a care. When she reached the dancing area she nearly blanched at the sight of the people whirling around but quickly managed to sidestep through it, her heart pounding in her chest. Roslin and Edmure were still dancing it would seem, and took no notice of her. _Good_ she thought. When she reached the door she only turned back once, to look at her father. To her surprise his eyes were trained on her, and the darkness within them scared her. _He is a vengeful person, my dear father,_ she thought, _He will not forget this._ She exited the room in a rush, her insides squirming uncontrollably. Her heart felt as though it were about to rip out of her chest, and her head had begun to pound. When she had turned down one hall—that was empty, thankfully- she stopped her strides and placed a hand on her chest, and she was practically heaving. _Dear gods,_ she thought to herself, _what—_

"My lady?" The Blackfish asked, his old voice haggard, "Are you alright?"

Avariella whirled around and planted the same false smile she had before on her face, "I am perfectly fine, my lord. Thank-you but I fear I must retire for I am tired."

He nodded at her, but Avariella did not miss how his eyes had narrowed at her. Avariella turned on her heel and practically ran to the stairs that led to her chambers, desperately needing her chamber's privacy.

* * *

When she woke the next morning, it was to the sun's rays entering her room through the blinds on her windows. She woke up groggily, a small sound exiting her throat from where she had buried herself under the furs. She had barely managed to dress herself into her night shift before collapsing onto the bed and crawling underneath the furs. It had been a deep and truly welcome sleep, without any night terror's. Just a dark, deep sleep that she had not gotten in many, many months. It nearly struck her as strange, that the first good and proper sleep she had in almost a year was when the people she had hated the most were in her home. She sat up from the bed and rubbed at her eyes, letting out a small groan. The sun had just risen, it would seem and with a flash of relief Avariella realised she had not missed the opportunity to break her fast.

She slowly managed to get out of bed, her bare feet cold upon landing on the stone floor. The hearth that died out overnight, leaving the room with a slight chill before she slipped on a cloak. She walked barefooted to her wardrobe and hesitated for a moment, wondering whether or not she should be dressed to go to the lake. She decided against it, reminding herself that she could go later when the sun was higher in the sky. So she picked out a dress to wear and placed it on the unmade bed. There was a knock on the door then, and so she called out, "You may enter."

Arra came into view then, her small frame barely managing to hold onto the laundry. "You can leave it on the bed, Arra, " she called out. She watched as Arra stumbled over to the bed and placed the stack of clothing on the made side, near to her clothes.

"Should I make the bed, my lady?" she asked quietly, as though she were afraid she would snap. Avariella may not have called upon Arra for dressing purposes anymore she knew that she had still continued on taking care of her room. "If you please," she responded and then added, "If you may bring me some water to bathe I would also be grateful." Arra nodded submissively and walked to the other side of the bed, and began to make it. The air was uncomfortably and awkward as Avariella stood there, watching her work. When Arra had finished she curtsied and said, "I shall be back with the water milady." Avariella nodded at her, silent and watched as she left. It nearly scared her how much she had grown used to her life being like this.

* * *

"He is so handsome," Waldra crowned, a flush appearing on her face as she batted her eyes eagerly. Avariella watched her out of the corner of her eye blankly, and ate another spoon of food.

"He danced with me twice!" she continued on. Roslin had not made her way down to the great hall yet. The other Waldra looked jealous as she said that and she murmured, "He didn't even dance with me at all." The first Waldra looked sympathetic— thought triumph and superiority flashed in her eyes— "Do not worry Waldra I have heard that Lady Catelyn will be speaking with all of us today—"

 _What?_ Avariella thought in horror, and her spoon landed on the table with a loud _thud_ as she dropped it. That grabbed their attention, and they looked down the table to where she was sitting alone and away from them. The great hall was empty for the most part, with only a few other Frey's littering the hall. The servants were on the floor, scrubbing at it furiously and Avariella briefly wondered whether or not she had missed anything before realising she didn't care.

"Something a bother sister?" Waldra asked innocently. Avariella nearly scowled at her, though he was careful to keep her shock and irritation masked. Waldra— the first one— was a bitter girl with a superiority issue, as she grew closer and closer to her upcoming twenty seventh name day. The innocent expression on her face was a farce— Waldra was innocent as Avariella was blonde-haired. Waldra was a girl who had inherited all of her fathers looks— and his personality as well, time had taught her.

"No," Avariella replied blankly and rose from her chair to leave.

"Did Lord Edmure dance with you, dear sister?" Waldra asked nicely, though Avariella knew that Waldra knew she hadn't. She stopped in her tracks and turned to face her elder half—sister and she amused herself with the knowledge that Waldra thought she cared as to whether or not Edmure Tully danced with her.

"No."

She walked away before Waldra could come with what she thought was a smart response, and she heard them both erupt into whispers the moment she left the room.

* * *

She returned to her chambers after visiting the library to grab a book, careful not to stumble onto any Stark soldiers or one of her brothers. She had not forgotten that Black Walder would no doubt wish to seek revenge for her actions, but knew that he would wait until the King had left until she did so. _Wouldn't want to risk father's wrath._

She sat herself by the chair near the hearth and began to read. It was a novel she had read before, but she still enjoyed it. Before she had never enjoyed reading, preferring to help run the keep and go on adventures with her brother or spend time with Shirei and Roslin. Avariella used to bring roses into the castle when she was younger, in failed attempts to get rid of the odour of sex and mead. She had planted rose bushes wherever she could, Avos had helped her as well. Her father had been amused then and said some jape that she did not remember, but Avariella could still smell the sweet scent of the roses under her nose, though they had now withered and died due to lack of care.

Avariella shook her head, and rid herself of her thoughts, flipping a page of the book. She immersed herself in the story, and the hours trickled by until she finally reached the end of it and placed it on her nearby nightstand. She glanced at the window, to where the sun was now shining high and bright in the sky, no cloud in sight and decided to go for her daily swim. She changed quickly into the thin white dress she usually wore to swim, and slipped her long cloak back on. It was floor length and covered all of her arms, and a small clasp shaped as the twins was in the middle. She clasped it together to hide the thin gown and just as she was about to leave there was a knock.

She opened it, and Olyvar was revealed to be standing behind it, his face blank but his eyes apologetic.

"Lady Catelyn sent for me to bring you to her, in order for her to get to know you better," he said uncomfortably.

Avariella froze, her grip on the door handle tightening as her heart began to speed faster.

"No," she told him, her voice pleading, "I will not."

"Avariella it is just a talk not a decision—"

"Yes and if I am not here I will not have to go through it!" she hissed at him, before her features softened and her voice grew into a plead, "Please, Olyvar. I can't be alone with one of them all I'll be able to see is his face and—"

She stopped shortly, and gazed into his brown eyes, "Please Olyvar, tell her you came too late and that I went for my daily swim."

There was a beat before her half-brother responded, "I'll wait for a few minutes so you can go and get Max—"

"Thank you," she breathed and hurried out of the room, the door slamming behind her.

* * *

Once Max had been brought to her by one of the guards to where she waited by the East castle gate, she immediately hurried out of it, eager to get away from the castle and Lady Catelyn. The walk to the small lake was not a very long one, though the spot was past the apple orchard. Max walked dutifully beside her, his tail wagging quickly. The grass was soft beneath her feet, though the soil was still slightly damp from the rain the previous morning, despite the sun being out and shining. It was a warm day, and Avariella could feel her cheeks begin to redden slightly. In part it was due to the pace she was walking at and also because of the sun beating down on her unapologetically. When the small patch of tree's came into sight Max let out a loud bark and bounded forward, though he was careful not to run too far in front of her.

Avariella found she was incredibly relived too see it as well, and her shoulder's nearly sagged under the weight of it. There was a small path that led to the lake and Avariella knew it like she knew the back of her palm and then finally, the small lake came into sight. It should have actually been called a pond due to its small size, but it was surprisingly deep from where she jumped in usually. It grew quite shallow at the opposite end from where she jumped but she typically never went to that end. Today she was in a rush to be in the water, and so she hastily unclasped her cloak and dropped it onto a small patch of grass before removing her boots as well. She removed the two pins she had put in her hair and was thankful that the bruise had faded so considerably overnight there was only a small, blue mark left.

Avariella marched over to the edge but halted suddenly, a breeze sweeping over the area, causing the then-still water to blur. She could hear the chirping of the birds in the tree's and the peaceful sound made the panic within her fade. It was only here that Avariella could truly find peace and solace. Where the memory of her brother did not haunt her but was cherished instead. Even the apple orchard was painful to visit but here; Here she could remember her brother in peace and sadness, with nothing but the tree's to look upon her in her grief. She counted to three in her head and jumped.

The water was cold but refreshing as she sunk deeper and deeper into it, so far that her feet touched the ground. She stared up at the surface, to where the sun had begun to shine on it and when it hit her hair it looked as though they had become flames. She surged up to catch a breath of air, and flipped onto her back. She saw Max curled up next to her pile of discarded clothing and nearly smiled at how peaceful he looked. She then floated on her back in the water, so that the only thing she could see was the light blue canvas that was the sky. The only thing Avariella could hear was her heart beating, and strangely enough the sound comforted her. _Thud thud thud_ it went _._ It felt as though she were floating up to the sky with no feeling of her limbs.

 _Is this how it felt, Avos?_ she thought sadly, _dying? Did you only hear the sound of your heart fading on that battlefield? Did you feel as though you were floating towards the sky by an unseen force?_ She had all of these questions, but none of them would ever be answered. Her heart beat was still a steady force, still going _thud thud thud_ in her ears. She pictured Avos in her head, his red curls a large contrast with the ground beneath him. She pictured him with a sword in his gut, or an arrow in his heart and she thought of how his blue eyes must have stared up at the sky like she was now. She thought of how his heart beat would have first been loud in his ears before quickly slowing down, until it eventually came to a stop. Avariella thought how her brother's eyes— usually a light, playful blue, always filled with mirth must have glazed over, lifeless.

Avariella's thoughts were disrupted by her gently bumping her head into something, and found it was the edge she had jumped off of. The magic was gone— the moment was gone and so she gently propped her elbows onto the ledge and managed to push herself out of the water. She lay there with her back on the grass, the sun warming her wet skin. She felt so tired and her chest felt as though a large boulder had just been tossed onto it and yet, she forced herself to turn onto her stomach, and force herself onto her feet. The grass was soft beneath her bare toes, and it tickled her slightly as she picked up her cloak and slipped it on. It instantly stuck tightly onto her skin, as though it were a second layer and Max jumped suddenly and began to growl. Avariella froze from where she stood next to him, and took a wary step forward, as quiet as a mouse.

She heard it then; the sound of dead leaves crushing against someones boots. Max began to growl louder and louder, and his body began to stiffen like it did whenever he was about to attack. Avariella kept her eyes intently focused on the path, waiting for the person to show their face. _A stumbling drunk, maybe,_ she thought, _or one of the soldiers._ The sound grew louder and louder, and it was then that Avariella knew they would appear and then—

A tall, towering woman dressed from neck to toe in silver armour appeared. Her hair was short, and cropped close to her shin and was the colour of straw, though more stringy and washed out. Her shoulders were wide and Avariella could tell she was a burly woman. Max had stopped growling at the sight of her, though he had not relaxed his body just yet. The woman's eyes widened at the sight of her and Avariella noticed that they were a bright blue— a pretty blue admittedly, though Avariella knew that was the only thing she could honestly call _pretty._ The woman's features were both boyish and brutish, but she held herself upright and proudly in her armour.

"I mean you no harm, my lady," The woman said, "I am Lady Catelyn's personal guard."

Avariella nodded at her, though her insides had clenched tightly. She whistled softly at Max and gently murmured, "It's alright boy." Max relaxed next to her and sat down once more, curling into himself. Avariella drew her attention back to the woman and asked, 'My lady, who are you?"

"Brienne of Tarth, my lady," she replied, taking a step forward. _Tarth_ Avariella contemplated, _the island of sapphire's I think._ Brienne stepped to the side to reveal Lady Catelyn behind her, her long auburn hair pulled back into a simple braid. Avariella stiffened at the sight of her, but curtsied accordingly, "My lady," she said, "I was not expecting you."

Her bare feet became glaringly more apparent to her, as did her soaked appearance. Lady Catelyn did not seem to mind however, though her eyes did linger on her bare feet for a moment. She walked forward to Avariella, her blue eyes revealing none of her thoughts.

"I heard from your brother that you went for a swim, my lady," She commented, pausing a few steps in front of her, "I figured I may come and seek you out. I fear I have not seen much of the Twins and wished to explore the grounds outside the crossing a little bit more."

Avariella forced her anger down her throat and nodded at her before replying, "Allow me to put on my boots, my lady." Without waiting for her to reply, she began to put her boots back on and when she was fully dressed, she turned to see Lady Catelyn staring at her intently, her blue eyes unreadable as she studied her. Avariella swallowed her unease and wariness and asked her politely, "My lady, may I ask as to why, you sought me out?"

Lady Catelyn regarded her closely before answering, "As you know my lady," they had both begun to walk then, along the path to return to the Twins, "My brother Edmure is to pick a bride very soon. He has asked me for my help in doing so, as he trusts my judgement." _To not pick someone stupid and frail._ The words were not said, but Avariella thought them. She forced a nod of understanding and listened to her continue.

"I have been talked to six of Walder Frey's true born daughters, all except you, my lady."

"If I had known you were searching for me, my lady, I would not have left," Avariella lied smoothly. Max had bounded off in front of them, and they were now out of the patch of tree's and on the path that led back to the Twins.

Lady Catelyn paused at that, and the look she sent her was scrutinising, and Avariella forced herself to keep her face blank and not reveal her true turmoil. "No matter," Lady Catelyn said, "I needed a walk, anyway my lady."

They walked in silence for a few moments, the only sound being their feet on the ground and Lady Brienne following them, closely behind.

"You're siblings have all had interesting things to say about you, Lady Avariella," she told Avariella. Avariella resisted the urge to stiffen, though her heart had begun to beat faster in her chest.

"Oh?" she asked lightly, "If you wanted to ask me something, my lady, you are free to do so."

"I know," Lady Catelyn said, her voice stern, "But I wished to know more about the girl who insulted my son and his wife to his face."

"I did that out of grief, my lady," Avariella said, attempting to keep her voice even, "I pleaded for his grace's forgiveness—"

"Yes," Catelyn interrupted smoothly, "I understand that, my lady. I was simply curious." Avariella felt slightly ashamed now, and forced the flush rising to her cheeks to stop. "Lady Roslin spoke very kindly of you, my lady." Avariella froze before quickly saying, "Roslin speaks kindly of everyone my lady, it is one of her greatest attributes along with her maternal instincts."

Lady Catelyn's eyes looked slightly amused as she looked at her, "You speak very highly of her, Lady Avariella and very often." Avariella flushed accordingly and said, "I simply wish for you too know how good of a person she is, my lady. My sister is very humble and that can sometimes be interpreted as weakness."

"Is that why you brought my brother and your sister together, my lady? Because she is very humble and shy or because you did not want my brother to chose you?" The words were bold and said bluntly, and any amusement Lady Catelyn may have been feeling vanished within a blink of an eye. Avariella looked at her blankly, though her insides had begun to squirm. "Forgive me for saying so, Lady Catelyn, but your brother seems like a man who. . . who would want a wife who is both pleasant and nature and. . . to look at. My sister Roslin happens to be both and I know that she would make your brother a good wife and be a good lady." The Twins had come into view now and Avariella was eager to walk faster.

"And you won't make my brother a good wife?"

"No," she replied instantly, and her eyes were fierce as she met Lady Catelyn's, "I will not make your brother a good wife because—with no offence my lady,— I have no desire to be your brother's bride. Roslin does. She wants it very much, she may be shy in the Twins but that is merely for now. She will grow into a strong woman and be a better wife and mother and Lady Rivverun than I could ever be, my lady. _That_ is the truth."

"Your sister said that you were once in charge of the Keep," Lady Catelyn said. Avariella paused in her steps for a moment and told her, "I _helped try_ to run the keep my lady, with the help of the Maester and—and my brother. Roslin helped as well, as did Shirei."

"Lady Roslin said that you were like a mother to Shirei," Lady Catelyn countered.

"I was," Avariella admitted honestly, though her eyes were dark, "And then my brother died and I simply did not care anymore my lady. I mean no offence when I speak to you, but this is the truth. A harsh one, but the truth nonetheless. Lord Edmure seem's quite taken with Roslin and I assure you that she feels the same. She deserves to be the Lady of Riverrun."

Lady Catelyn regarded her closely, and Avariella was thankful to realise that they had reached the East castle. "I will take your council into very careful consideration, my lady." Avariella's heart sunk at that before she nodded her thanks and muttered, "If you will please excuse me, my lady, for I must redress."

Lady Catelyn nodded at her and Avariella took the moment to leave.

"Your brother Olyvar also spoke of you," Lady Catelyn called out to her. Avariella froze in her footsteps to indicate that she had heard, yet she did not turn around. "He said that you were like fire, that you could warm a room and light it up but that you would burn those who came to close."

"I am afraid to disappoint you my lady," Avariella said, turning around to face the older woman, "I am much more like a flickering candle than fire. Good day too you."

* * *

It was near evening when Avariella made her way onto the bridge. The sky had begun to turn orange as the sun started to set, and the winds had grown stronger since her walk with Lady Catelyn. The bridge was near scarce as she walked down it, and all she saw was a distant figure standing near the edge of the bridge, looking down at the river below. She could only see the figure's long, dark billowing hair and could not recognise her in her mind. Catelyn's words had ingrained themselves into her brain, and it made her sick with anger.

She walked closer to the figure, and it was then that she realised that it was the Queen. She had not seemed to notice her, and was staring at the scenery, and her eyes looked strangely sad. Her blew wildly behind her, and the sun's rays made it look lighter but no less beautiful.

"Your grace," Avariella said, surprised and slightly disturbed to see her out here. Queen Talisa turned to look at her, and the sorrow in her eyes surprised Avariella. Her hand was placed on her stomach as she said to her sadly, "You have a very beautiful bridge." She then left quickly, leaving Avariella alone to her own thoughts.

 **A/N HELLO GUYS! This is the longest chapter I have ever written. I have quickly learnt that having, long detailed chapters is very important. First off, thank you all for your support and your comments, it means a lot to me that you guys are enjoying this story. Secondly, I am pleasantly surprised that fans of Blood Must have blood have followed me to this story. I am very grateful for that and I hope you guys like this story as much that one. Thirdly, did anyone see that finale? OMG wasn't it so good? Anyway, tell me your thoughts !**

 **Until next time,**

 **Fionakevin073**

 **P.S. Did anyone pick up on those references to moments in the show and in the books? Pieces of dialogue? Lol thanks guys**


	3. Chapter 3 Part 1

**For some reason, Fanfiction is not letting me upload the whole chapter in one document, so I've decided to split chapter 3 into 2 parts until the problem has been fixed. Warning, the chapter is not split in half exactly, and this part stops in the middle of a scene which will continue automatically in the next chapter. Thank you and I apologise for the complication.**

Chapter 3

It had been a week since the encounter with the Queen on the bridge, and Avariella had barely seen any glimpse of her since then. Yes, she saw her at supper but other than that it was as though the woman simply disappeared. Not that she seemed entirely there when she _was_ there. She always had a sorrowful look in her eyes, and barely spoke a word to anyone. _You have a beautiful bridge._ The words had haunted Avariella ever since she had said them, and she spent several hours of the night trying to decipher them. The words felt strange on her tongue whenever she used to whisper them in the night, as though it were a foreign language.

She had not spoken to Lady Catelyn Stark since their last conversation, thank the gods and neither had she encountered the King or Lord Edmure. The few glances she had seen of Lord Edmure was when he was with Roslin, and the relief that soared through her at the couple nearly had her falling to the floor. Not that the rest of her elder siblings shared her relief, and a lot of the time whenever she was in their company they whispered vicious words about Roslin and Edmure Tully in attempts to make themselves feel better. Not all hope was lost for some of them, however, as they all still hoped that the King would chose them to take to the North.

That thought made her blood grow cold, and her hands begin to shake. Avariella had not planned that far ahead in terms of him choosing someone else. She let out a loud sigh, looking around her chamber and buried her face in her hands. She had just risen from bed, and changed her clothing, her sheets where still tangled but she made no move to summon Arra because Max was still sleeping soundly at the foot of her bed. It was only rarely that she ever brought Max up to her chambers, and she had not done so in many moons. The last time she had brought him up was after the attack by Ser Trent. She had not felt safe on her own and for Max in the kennels himself; she was terrified that her father would have him butchered in the night, as he had made no attempt to hide his fury with the dog. _One of my best knights!_ He had yelled at her over a year ago, as if that was supposed to make her forgive and forget. Not that Ser Trent being one of her father's best knights mattered now; no now he was fat and bulging, a far cry from the leaner, muscular man he was before when he attacked her.

 _Didn't change his nature though_ she thought to herself, rubbing at her eyes. Sleep had not come easily to her any of these past nights. Avariella always woke in the middle of the night from night terrors. Some were of Avos and those were the cruelest too her. Because some times she would dream of a happier time, of when her twin brother was alive or _still_ alive. They would be laughing and smiling before she woke with a jolt and for a few moments she would forget that her brother was dead. And when she remembered it was as though she were losing him all over again, every single time. Other's of Avos would be of him dying in front of her, and her not being able to do anything about it. Those night she woke up drenched in sweat, with her heart pounding so painfully in her chest she would prefer to have it ripped out. But other nights, like last night, she dreamt of Ser Trent and how suffocated she had felt when he was on top of her. How his grubby hands had clutched at places no man had ever touched before and those were the nights when she woke up with a shout. He had taken something from her that night, thankfully not her virginity but a sliver of her innocence. A chunk of her hope that had snuffed out like a candle flame the moment she discovered that Avos was dead.

Bringing Max up with her had made her feel safer, more comfortable in her own skin. And whenever she woke from those nights when she dreamt of her Ser Trent, Max always nuzzled his face into her stomach and she would relax quicker than she would if he wasn't there. Max was the closest living connection she had to her dead brother that did not bring her pain and instead made her feel safe. All her other siblings, especially Olyvar, Roslin and Shirei were reminders of her loss, which would always be greater than theirs in her eyes. Not that all of her siblings had even noticed Avos was gone, their poor excuse of a family was so big they hadn't even met all of their siblings. Avariella believed she had at least two more half sisters that had left the Twins long before she was born and were either dead or simply didn't bother coming back. Not that she particularly blamed them, once she would have done anything to leave the Twins. _Ah the good old days,_ she thought bitterly and placed her brush down, letting her long red hair tumble to her waist. Her hair was a peculiar shade of red, not like Tully red but not ginger either. That she had inherited from her mother, though she had never known her. The ghosts in her life were endless, it would seem.

Avariella puckering her lips and whistled softly, and instantly Max leapt up from the bed and came to her side. She placed a gentle hand on his head and petted it gently, before retracting her hand and walking out the door. The hall was quiet, as it was usually whenever she woke. Avariella was probably the earliest riser of any of her half sister's. _But then again, a lot of them are simply walking back to their room's at this hour, instead of coming out of them._

* * *

Avariella broke her fast in the great hall, her only company being the few servants that were scrubbing the floors and dusting the tables where she was not sitting. She twirled the spoon between her fingers, watching with morbid interest as it swirled in the porridge beneath her. Food at the Twins had never been appetising, but suddenly the food felt like ashes in her mouth. She had only about two spoonfuls of porridge before letting the spoon drop into the soup like porridge with a _pop._ Avariella let out a sigh, which attracted Max's attention underneath the table.

She drummed her fingers on the table for a few moments, thinking hard. A crease formed between her eyes as she did so, her brow's furrowing into a frown.

"My lady?" a female voice asked, interrupting her thinking.

Avariella jumped at the sound of the voice, her hazel eyes widening and then fluttered rapidly.

"Sorry?" she asked confusedly.

The servant girl's cheeks flushed until she spoke again, "Is the food too your liking? Because if it is not I can fetch something else from the kitchens, my lady."

Avariella nodded silently, and cast a glance at the disgusting looking porridge. Her stomach clenched at the thought of trying to stomach down something else and so she shook her head and muttered politely, "No thank you, I have had enough."

The girl nodded and reached for the bowl, and hurried out of the hall. Avariella sat there for a few moments longer before finally sliding off the bench, with Max following her at her heels. She walked briskly around the castle, before she reached the open doors and walked outside of the castle. She didn't know precisely where she was going, as she had not changed into the clothes she usually wore when she swam but all she knew was that she needed some fresh air. She walked about the unusually lifeless castle, walking until she reached the area where the training pen's began and then turned back around. Without all the people, without the stench that usually clouded the air, the Twin's could have been pleasant. Yet despite it's current bareness there was still signs of the Twin's inhabitants. A few banners hung here and there, with some even crumpled on the floor. Stacks of hay and straw were randomly placed everywhere, and the ground was covered with tracks of both human and animal.

Avariella walked through the gates of the East castle, the one that led to the hills and the apple orchard and corn field and simply walked slowly, savouring the quietness. Sooner rather than later, the castle would wake and the people that came with it would reappear. Max bounded ahead of her, panting loudly, and she kept a careful eye on him as she walked down the path, though she did not stray too far from the castle. _It was strange,_ she acknowledged, _she hated most of the people who resided in the Twins yet she wanted too stay there more than anything._ Avariella did not want too say for the scenery, or the people. She wanted too stay because the castle was the closest tie left she had with Avos. Avos was the horrible food, and the muddy floors, he was the apple orchard and cornfield, he was the sound of the river flowing beneath the bridge. He was the crowded rooms and the sound of Max barking. Avos was here, and he was everywhere, and as long as she stayed here a piece of her brother would always be with her. It was almost as if she was breathing back life into him, with every stone she touched on the wall, and with every step she took. Leaving would mean leaving what was left of him, and by all the gods she could not survive that. She couldn't. She wouldn't.

Avariella then halted in her steps as she reached the top of a small hill, which elevated her high enough so that she could see the Twins in all it's glory. The wind had begun too pick up, so that now her red hair was flapping around wildly, and she made a useless attempt at tucking a strained of it behind her ear. It was then that she felt something warm against her leg, and glanced down at the ground too find Max there. At first, she thought he was trying too comfort her, but when he nuzzled his head into her knee more insistently, she realised he was trying to tell her something. "Max what is it?" she asked quietly. He let out a small whine and turned so that his back was on her knee, his tail wagging so relentlessly it kept on hitting her boot. "What is it boy?" she asked again, and looked up to glance around the area, once again trying too tame her hair as the wind howled relentlessly. It was then she caught sight of _it._

Her hand froze by her ear, where she was trying to tuck her hair behind it, and her heart dropped so low she thought it was now in her stomach. Avariella was suddenly not aware of the howling wind, and was now only aware of her breathing, which had grown louder and louder so that it sounded as though she were panting. The beast was only a few mere meters away from her and Max, and she briefly wondered as too how she had not noticed such a beast coming so close to her. Max began to growl at it, as though threatening him not too come closer. It was the size of a small horse, with smokey grey fur and abnormally yellow eyes. Avariella's limbs felt like stone, and she stood there, fear keeping her rooted to the spot. She felt as though if she even attempted to move she would topple over. _That thing is too large to be a wolf,_ she realised, but before she could further inspect it, it suddenly ran off so fast it was like the wind. If the wind had colour, anyway.

Avariella could not make herself move for several moments, and when she finally managed to take a shaky step backwards she almost collapsed onto the ground. Max had stopped growling, but was still sniffing the air, as though trying to tell whether or not the beast would suddenly pounce on them. "Come on boy," Avariella urged as she began to move quickly in the direction of the front gate, "Lets go back inside." _Away from whatever that was._

Avariella almost began to ran towards the gate, her heart pounding in her chest and her hands almost began too shake at her sides. Max seemed to share her desperation to go into he safety of the castle as fast as possible as he walked faithfully beside her. When they finally passed through the gates she felt such relief that she nearly sunk to the ground. Avariella had not felt such fear in a while. A long, long, while. She cast a terse glance behind her, too check whether or not the beast had followed her. It hadn't. _Thank the gods,_ she thought, pressing a hand to her chest. Avariella was suddenly aware of all the eyes on her, and realised with a sudden jolt what it must have looked like; with her practically sprinting into the front courtyard as though she were being chased by a band of thieves and rapists, except they didn't exist. She took a few shaky steps back, and then collided into something or _someone._

"Avariella are you alight?" Olyvar asked. She nearly cried out at the sound of Olyvar's voice, and was thankful that it had been him she had bumped into, and not someone else. Especially Ser Trent. Gods know what he would have done.

Avariella let out a shaky breath, her heart still hammering in her breast. "I'm fine," she whispered, and she was sure her cheeks were flushed from the event, "I-I just. . .there was this _beast_."

Olyvars' eyebrows rose high on his forehead, and his eyes softened with concern as he gently touched her elbow. Avariella was too bothered by what she had seen to move away from his comforting touch. "What beast?" he inquired gently, his voice soft.

"It was almost like a wolf," she told him shakily, "Except bigger. With grey fur the colour of smoke and eyes the colour of the sun. When it ran it was so fast. Almost like the wind."

Olyvar smiled at her and let out a brief chuckle, "You must have met Greywind," he said, removing his elbow from her. It was now Avariellas' turn for her eyebrows to raise as she took a step away from her half-brother, bothered by his sudden relaxation and familiarity with the beast. "You _know_ him?" she questioned, horror laced in her voice. Olyvar now looked suddenly nervous, as though he was afraid of how she might react, "He's King Robbs. I met Greywind when I was his squire."

Avariella gaped at him in horror; not only for him somehow being _unafraid_ of the beast but also by how familiar he was with it _and_ his owner. But somehow, Avariella wasn't surprised by the newfound knowledge. If anything, she felt rather stupid for not realising that it was a dire wolf sooner. She could now distantly remember the rumours her elder half-brothers had spread about the King in the North when they returned home, whenever she managed to force herself out of her chambers. Which at that time was admittedly not very often. The comfort and solace she had felt moments ago in her half-brother's presence had suddenly vanished and in it's place a burning fury had crept it's way into her heart. And even though she hated to admit, there was sliver of hurt that had appeared as well. She wanted to spit in his face and scratch at it. The urge for her to scream and curse him had never been more strong. But she managed to quell it down, knowing that if she created another scene her father would not settle for a mere chastising this time.

"I suggest you tell _your_ King that his _precious_ pet has run out of the castle, seeing as you seem to be so acquainted and familiar with each other." Her words were venomous and burned her mouth when she said them. Olyvar seemingly deflated at her words, and just as he began to talk, she brushed past him, her shoulder knocking against his as she did so, with Max behind her all the way.

* * *

There were very few places within the Twins where one could find solace. Where _she_ could be just a little bit more comfortable than she would anywhere else. Those three places were her chamber, the sept (which Avariella rarely went to anymore because her faith in the gods had diminished to a pile of dust) and the library. Typically, Avariella went to the library, grabbed a book she had not read and whisked herself into her chamber and did not emerge until hours later. Avariellas' trips to the library had only been frequent for a few moons. At least, her trips to the library before her brother had died was too search for books about tales of princes and princesses and songs. Not that Avariella had been a good singer, though she had once known many songs. Now, all the songs which she had once spent hours memorising in her classes with her Septa and in her own free time now blended together into one muddled mess.

Except for the one. But that one had been Avos's favourite song for her too sing, and Shirei's as well. Avariella shook her head at that thought, and glanced throughout the library. Not many of the Frey's ever expressed interest in reading, so over the years the library had grown more and more dilapidated. The shelves were dusty and old, and the books whenever opened let out so much dust Avariella spent at least a few minutes coughing. As usual, the library was empty at this time of day, and so she took her time walking through aisles, her eyes flickering across all the titles until one book caught her interest. Once she had settled on a book, she gently took it from the shelf and hugged it close to her chest when the door opened.

Avariella froze where she stood and was grateful for the fact that she was a couple of rows down away from the door, so that the shelves shielded her from view. She could hear the intruder take a few more steps into the room and she sucked in a breath and stiffened. She took a few, quiet steps to the side, and careful to still keep herself hidden from view. She heard the person stop in their movements, and so she halted as well. Avariella closed her eyes tightly, her one hand gripping onto the edge of the wooden shelf while the other held on tightly to the person moved again. Avariella quickly stuck her head out to catch a glimpse of the person, and was surprised to find Lady Catelyn there, with her back to her. _Why can't she leave me alone?_ Avariella thought, before her mind argued, _what if she isn't even here to see you?_ Avariella scowled at herself and took a step back so that she was no longer visible to Lady Catelyn. _As if she's here because she's interested in what the Frey library has too offer._

She heard the older woman let out a small, frustrated sigh before walking towards the door, which opened and closed with a small sound. Avariella let out a sigh of relief and sunk to the ground, resting her head against the shelf. She stayed down there for a while, before finally getting up and making her way out of her room to go to her chamber. She moved quickly through the halls, and was surprised to find the hallway of their chambers being once more abnormally quiet, except for the loud voices coming from one room. As she walked closer and closer to her chamber the voices grew louder. Avariella stopped before the partially opened door when she heard the voices of some of her sisters echo out from the door.

"I can't believe he has already decided. . ." one of them was saying. It was one of the Waldra's the nastiest one. Avariella frowned in distaste at the sound of her voice, and at the knowledge that her elder sisters little 'group' were gathered together. Her elder half-sisters

Waldra, the other slightly nicely Waldra, Gerna and Marianne had formed a little band like how she, Roslin, Olyvar, Avos and Shirei had once been. Her eldest half sister Wyona disappeared off to seven knows where everyday, though she had never struck Avariella as a woman who would sleep around with the men. But then again, Avariella could count on her one hand the amount of time's she could remember having a conversation alone with the woman.

"I can't believe so either," Marianne admitted, her voice sounding slightly squeakish. Avariella frowned at what she was hearing, and edged just a little bit closer, "One of us will be Lady of Riverrun."

Avariella felt as though a bucket of ice was poured over her head and she took a hesitant step back, her head snapping back to look at Roslin's chambers. She practically ran to the shut door and knocked on it, barely managing too keep a grip on the book in her left hand.

"Come in!" Roslin called out, and Avariella barely processed how. . . _giggly_ she sounded. She opened the door quickly and barged in, feeling breathless.

"Roslin—" Avariella's voice drifted off as she caught eye of Shirei sitting across from Roslin on the bed, a smile painted on her youthful face. They both looked up at her, their smiles still painted on their faces. Roslin rose from her chair, her skin flushed a pretty red from giggling no doubt, and her honey coloured hair pulled into a simple braid. She looked happily surprised as she walked towards a frozen Avariella.

"Avariella!" Roslin cried out, "It's a pleasure too see you here after—" There was an awkward silence when Roslin realised what she was saying. Avariella cleared her throat loudly and said, "I heard that Lord Edmure was announcing his choice today, I wanted to find out whether or not you—"

"Yes!" Roslin interrupted cheerfully, sharing a happy glance with Shirei, "Isn't it exciting?" Avariella watched her, careful to hide her. . .discomfort at the idea of marrying a Tully, "Yes," Avariella said, "Very exciting." Roslin walked back to her chair and sat, humming a soft tune under her breath, not detecting Avariellas' sarcasm. "He's going to announce his choice later on tonight at supper. We were just deciding on styles to do our hair and the dresses we should wear." Avariella tried to ignore the pull inside of her that urged her too look at Shirei. She swallowed in an attempt to rid herself of the lump in her throat, but it was useless.

"Would you like to join us?"

Avariella snapped her head up to look at Roslin and couldn't help but glance at Shirei as well, who was staring at her hopefully, her blue eyes bright. Avariella opened her mouth to decline when her heart squeezed painfully in her chest, and suddenly she couldn't bring herself to douse the light in her little half-sisters eyes. "Alright," she said gently, the word heavy on her tongue but then Shirei's face brightened so considerably it almost felt worth it. She ran up to Avariella and hugged her mid-section tightly, and buried her head into her chest. "It'll be like old time's Ava," Shirei said, her voice muffled against her chest, "You''ll see." Avariella hesitantly lifted her hand to Shirei's head, her heart throbbing in her chest. Shirei pulled away from her after a moment, her eyes gentle and she tugged at Avariella's hand and pulled her towards the bed, where they both sat down. Ava, her sister had called her as though the past year had not even happened. As though she had not banned anyone from calling her that ever again. Ava. That girl was a different person to who she was now. That girl still had her hope and innocence despite everything. That girl no longer exist. But Avariella simply watched her half-sisters giggle and talk to each other and giggled when she was supposed too and spoke when spoken too, even though the pit in her stomach grew with each passing moment.

"Could I put flowers in your hair?" Shirei asked her excitedly, "I don't have any right now, but I can go looking. I haven't practised doing it in over a year, Ava because with Roslin the flowers don't stick in her hair and Olyvar always runs away whenever I attempt to do it with him."

Avariella felt her heart clench and she forced herself to smile at her, "Perhaps for the wedding Shirei, I must bathe today since I have not already done so and it won't look as good with wet hair." Shirei's smile dimmed a bit at that, before she nodded understandingly and Avariella suddenly felt so guilty she wanted to cry. Shirei turned to talk with Roslin and Avariella felt the smile slide right off her face as she stared at her.

"Shirei," Roslin said suddenly, grabbing Avariella's attention, "Don't you have lessons with your Septa in the afternoon today?"

Shirei pouted at her elder sister and pleaded, "Please can I stay? Septa Oona is so boring and we haven't decided what to do with Avariella—"

"Don't worry Shirei," Avariella cut in softly, her eyes gentle, "I'll be fine, I promise." Shirei nodded at that, though she didn't look particularly happy about it. She rose from the bed and took two steps forward before turning back around and throwing her arms around Avariella. Shock made her limbs stick to her sides as Shirei whispered in her ear, "I'm glad your back, I missed you," before she pressed a quick kiss to her cheek and hurried out of the room. Avariella sat there for a moment, ice spreading across her skin like wildfire. her throat was bumpy with emotion, and she hurriedly cleared her throat to try rid herself of it, suddenly aware of Roslin's eyes on her.

Avariella shifted uncomfortably where she sat and started, "Well—"

Roslin reached across the space between them and gripped Avariella shoulders so tightly it was almost painful and forced her too look into her eyes. Avariella was too startled to say anything and sat there gobsmacked as Roslin smoke with a fierceness Avariella never knew she had.

"You can't disappear again, do you hear me?" Roslin demanded ferociously, "You can't hide back in your chambers and stare at the wall for days on end, leaving Shirei all alone. I'm not going to be here next time to pick up the pieces, and neither is Olyvar. You can't, alright? You can't let her down again. She needs you. She needs a _mother._ You decided all those years ago to become one for her, you can't change your mind just like that. You're not the only one who lost something when Avos died—"

"I won't," Avariella snapped crossly, shaking off her half-sisters grip. Roslin didn't look convinced as she looked at her, her blue eyes narrowed as she leaned back into her chair. ]

"Did Lord Edmure tell you he would chose you?" Avariella asked after a while, still in slight shock by her sisters confidence.

Roslin's mouth twisted before she said quietly and her tone was suddenly a lot meeker, "I may be shy but I am not stupid Avariella."

Avariella resisted the urge to snap _could've fooled me._ She still felt slightly stung by her words, but knew that Roslin was right, deep, deep down. Without them, Shirei would be eaten alive by the rest of the Frey's, and the innocence and kindness that made Shirei, Shirei would be sucked out of her like a leech. Avariella rose from where she sat, and cast Roslin a glance before asking softly, "Do you need my help now?"

"No," Roslin said, not quite meeting her eyes, "No, I'll call for you when Shirei comes back from her lesson."

Avariella nodded solemnly and moved towards the door and stopped in her steps when Roslin called after her, "Don't do it for me," her voice sounded tired as she spoke, but there was a obvious plea in her voice, "Don't do it for Shirei if she's not enough for you. Do it for Avos. Do it because he loved her."

 _I loved her too,_ Avariella wanted to say, but knew she had no right. Not after what she did. And so she only nodded in response, and quietly slipped out of the room.

* * *

Shirei was bouncing excitedly next to her, and Avariella was careful to hide her amusement. Interacting with her half-sisters— _fully_ interacting with her sisters for a long period of time unlike the interactions she had with him when she was too slow in running the other direction, felt. . slightly awkward. It was as though she had been injured and bedridden for months, and was now suddenly getting used to walking on her feet again, getting used to the same routine she once had. Shirei did not seem to notice her discomfort, or her frequent moments of spacing out and even Roslin seemed happy to have her there as they prepared for the evening. All signs of animosity from Roslin had vanished, it would seem, and Avariella still had a difficult time believing the moment had ever occurred.

Avariella glanced towards her elder half sister, who had a nervous expression on her face. Her hair had been braided and then was carefully twisted around her head by Shirei, so that now on either side of her shoulder a braid lay. She was wearing a beautiful embroidered gown, which complimented her skin. She looked very pretty, Avariella admitted to herself. She then glanced at Shirei, who was eating a piece of lamb and yet still managed to look at happy. How her younger half-sister managed it she did not know. Especially in a place like this, for an occasion _such as_ this. Shirei hadn't noticed her awkwardness and discomfort, and had simply adjusted to things, as though this was like old times. As though Avos was still alive.

The thought made her heart twist and she glanced down at her plate, a contemplative look appearing on her features. His absence had never seemed so final too her. Of course she had known he was gone, and that he was never coming back. She struggled with that knowledge everyday but it was only now that she realised how. . she couldn't even find the words to describe it. Avos was there with every joke Shirei made, and with every smile she and Roslin shared. Avos was there in the way that Shirei steadily brushed her long locks hours before, and how she gently braided two chunks of hair from the upper half of her head and pinned it to each side. Avos was there with Shirei kindness and willingness too forgive her. Avos was there, because if Avariella had been like a mother too her Avos had been like a father. And the sudden rush of shame and guilt that boiled in her stomach was as strong as the winds of winter but the desire to simply curl up in her room and be alone nearly outmatched it.

Music was playing in the background, and she could feel Shirei tap her foot underneath the table and could hear Roslin hum to the beat. Very few people were dancing, and though the music was lively there was a nervous aura in the air, and bucket loads of bitterness coming off from her other half-sisters. They sent Roslin dirty glances every now and then that were so blatant Avariella had to stare at them for several minutes just to get them to stop. Not that her other half-sisters were the only ones staring at Roslin; when Roslin had entered the room, Edmure Tully's jaw had practically dropped to the floor. Avariella generally avoided looking at the group of the leading members of the Stark/Tully household, out of fear of her bitterness and grief overtaking her and seeing that smile on Shirei's face sliding right off.

Avariella had barely eaten anything, not that she was missing out on much. Like usual, the food was dull and undercooked. Avariella briefly wondered as too why her father had never bothered getting new cooks before quickly remembering that her father was not one to actual care as too how his food tasted. Soon enough, the food on Shirei's plate disappeared and a few more bites of food went down Roslin's throat. It was then that Avariella choose to spoke, glancing at Roslin who looked characteristically pale and spoke with a concerned tone, "Roslin, you look as though you are a few moments from fainting." Roslin winced at that, and muttered in reply, "Do I really?"

Avariella shared a glance with Shirei, who then cast a kind look over to Roslin and said, "It's not that bad, I promise. You just look . . you just look—"

"Why don't the both of you go for a spin," Avariella cut in, gesturing towards the dancers. Roslin's eyes widened with concern, her features twisting into an expression of unsureness. "I don't know Avariella," Roslin said warily, "It wouldn't be proper. . ." Avariella rose one eyebrow at her, and her mouth twisted amusedly when she asked, "Since when have we Frey's ever been proper?" Roslin laughed at that; a melodic sound, before standing up and gently tugging at Shirei's hands. Avariella watched as they moved towards the other dancing people in a fit of giggles and smiles, and her chest tightened painfully. She grabbed a hold of her wine and then gulped down half of it quickly and clumsily set it back down onto the table.

"I never knew you drank," Olyvar murmured beside her, sliding into the spot where Shirei was sitting moments before. Avariella cast him a side-wards glance before looking forward at her view of drunken Northern lords. She had not been introduced to any of them, and it occurred to her as whether or not she was the only sister who hadn't. "Well what can I say?" She retorted sarcastically, "I looked at them and got inspired." Olyvar let out an amused sigh, before telling her almost soothingly, "You can't hate them forever."

"It's not a matter of _them,_ " she gestured towards the drinking Lords, "It's more of the matter of who they follow. _Him_ and his family. Well, lets just say I have enough hate for them for all the people in this room." Olyvar's eyes flashed at her in frustration, and she could tell her elder half-brother was trying to keep calm. It was a rare occasion that Olyvar ever managed to lose his temper, but when he lost it. . . Avariella refused the urge to wince, and instead stared into his eyes defiantly, as if daring him to tell her otherwise. "You can't hate him either, there's no reason—"

"No reason?" Avariella interrupted, her voice harsh with anger, "That man denied my brother— _our_ brother an honourable death. He made his death mean nothing for a life with a prettier wife." Her voice was scornful now as she glared at her brother. When he opened his mouth to retort she spoke quickly before he could, "Your not here to give me a sermon about forgiveness so get around to why you actually are sitting here beside me Olyvar before I smash my cup of wine into your face." Olyvar's jaw tightened before he told her grudgingly, "Lady Catelyn asked me to send for you." It was almost at the same time that they twisted in their seats to get a good view of the closest table to her father's where sure enough, Catelyn Tully sat along with her brother, son, uncle and good-sister. "Why in the seven hells would the mother of the King wish to speak with me—"

"Perhaps you made a good impression," Olyvar offered, his voice filled with amusement. Avariella glowered at him before rising quickly, which Olyvar hastily did as well. A scowl was now formed on Avariellas' face and she bitterly began to retort, "Perhaps I can—"

"My lady," a unfamiliar voice said to her. Avariella stopped in the middle of her sentence, her back straightening like a log. Her expression was a startled one, and she turned towards the unfamiliar voice, and curtsied at the man it came from. "My lord," she returned, unsuccessful in keeping her surprise out of her voice. The man was of average height, with pale skin that was taunt with lines on his forehead, Avariella could only assume came from frowning too much. The man had short hair that was trimmed to the back of his neck and kept close to his head, and which was brown if not for his greying scalp. The man was dressed in fine clothes—Northern clothes, that suited his form quite well. His nose was long but had no bumps like so many of her brothers and his lips were thin and a dull shade of pink. He was clean shaven for the most part, though there was some stubble beginning to form on his cheeks. Something about him was off too her however, and when he reached for her hand and kissed it she struggled to not snatch it away from his grasp. Ice spread throughout her body like wildfire at his mere touch— but his eyes; his eyes were the most terrible thing. They were neither warm nor cold. They showed no signs of laughter or disapproval and were simply blank and wide-eyed, as though she was looking at blue wall.

"Avariella," Olyvar said quietly, "This is Lord Roose Bolton of the Dreadfort. He was married to one of our nieces a little over a year ago." Avariella gave him a small smile that she was sure did not match her eyes, and he smiled; it was a horrible thing, without hint of warmth or amusement. "She is a pleasant girl my wife," he told her, his voice was as detached as his features. "May I ask as to which niece this may be?" she questioned politely, bile rising in her throat. "Lady Waldra," he supplied, watching her closely. Avariella's memories of her niece were very vague but she did remember that she was older than Avariella was now. She was a big girl too, and a crude one but with a decent heart, she supposed. "I hope she makes you very happy," she told him formally, her hazel eyes tightening. His lips turned upward at that and he commented, "Lady Catelyn told me the same thing." Avariella felt a shot of animosity form in her chest, and her lips strained to keep her smile in tact, "Well you know the saying," she said lightly, "Great minds think a like." Something appeared in his blue eyes for a moment— a flash of some emotion that was gone before she had even fully registered it was there. "Excuse me my lady," he said stiffly and she gave him a cordial smile which faded from her face the moment Lord Bolton turned his back.

Olyavr did not look particularly happy as he stared at the man as well, and something in his gaze hardened. Avariella frowned at Olyvar before telling him rather harshly, "If all your Northern Lords are so charming I can't see how any of us will be able to contain ourselves." Olyvar shot her a dark look before admitting to her quietly, "I never liked the man much myself. There is something. . .off about him. Something I can't quite put my finger on." Avariella let him contemplate his words for a few more moments before she interrupted his thinking, "I believe you were supposed to escort me to Catelyn Stark?" Olyvar jumped as though she had pinched him and then nodded sheepishly, though his eyes still had that far-away distant look. They walked towards the table and Avariella felt her insides tighten at the sight of King Robb and Queen Talisa, as long as a smiling Edmure and less-stern looking Catelyn Stark. She forced herself to plant a tight smile on her face, and curtsied accordingly when they grabbed their attention.

"Your grace," she told the King, and then turned to the Queen, "Your grace." She then turned to look at Catelyn Stark and said with as much false courtesy as she could muster, "My brother told me that you wished to speak with me, my lady. I apologize for the delay, for I just had the great honour of making the acquaintance of Lord Bolton." Lady Catelyn's lips rose at that, and her usually stern blue eyes suddenly looked very appraising, as though Avariella was a passage she could not quite decipher. "So we saw." Avariella did not like the look in her eyes, and liked even less the mention of the word _we._ Of the mere implication that _they_ had been watching her like some sort of prey. Her lips twitched from how hard she was trying to keep her smile in tact. Lady Catelyn then rose from her chair, and walked over towards her.

"Shall we go talk now?" Catelyn offered. It was then Avariella noticed the woman—Brienne of Tarth she thought her name was, standing in front of the wall far behind Lady Catelyn, and that she had taken a few steps in their direction when she saw her standing up. Avariella did not glance at the rest of the people on her table but she somehow got the feeling that Catelyn Stark doing something like this was very rare, and with a quick glance at the Queen who had a somewhat rejected expression on her face Avariella guessed she didn't do this with _her._ The thought made her stomach clench and bile climb up her throat but still she smiled politely and nodded and so the two of the walked on down the room, leaving them in their wake.

"You were right," Catelyn admitted to her quietly, as they stood watching the dancers. Avariella's gaze had landed on Shirei and Roslin, who were holding each others hands and twirling, giggling without a care in the world. The sight made Avariella's heart ache in her breast but she was careful to hide her inner turmoil from the Stark. "About what, my lady?" Avariella asked, feigning confusion. The look the older woman sent her told her she was not fooled. "My brother is quite taken with your sister." They stood there, watching her sisters and it occurred to Avariella how odd they might seem. One woman with red hair and the other with auburn but both with lines of grief on their face that would never fade away. Avariella did not like Catelyn Stark, but she recognised a grieving woman when she saw one, partially because she saw one every time she looked in the mirror. "You said your sister would grow to be a strong woman." Avariella considered this for a moment, and she was quite surprised at the shame she felt form within her when she realised that sometime within the past year her elder half-sister had already become strong, and she had done her a grievance by not recognising it sooner. "She already is," Avariella told her, meaning it. She could feel Catelyn Stark's gaze on her now, but she made no move to drag her eyes away from her half-siblings.

"As you know, we will also be taking another Frey with us to the North. Your brother Olyvar has been reappointed as Robb's squire—" Surprise shot through Avariella as she glanced at the woman, and suddenly a bucket of realisation washed over as she realised _why_ Olyvar would no longer be there to help her with Shirei. "I am also helping my son decide who that girl should be." Amidst her shock Avariella realised the woman was implying that they would might choose _her._ The mere thought of it made Avariella almost flinch in disgust and throw up all over Catelyn Stark's boots. "Shirei," Avariella blurted out, her hazel eyes wide, "Shirei has a gentle heart and possesses more kindness in her little finger than half of my father's other children possess in their entire bodies." She was then somber for a moment, her features etched into one of sorrow someone as young as she should never know, "If anyone deserves to have their sons and daughters wed to a King or a princess it's her."

Catelyn nodded as though she were seriously taking into account everything she had just said. Avariella didn't bother to try and convince the auburn-haired woman once more. She let out a small sigh and clasped her hands together in front of her. She remembered then what Olyvar had described her as to Catelyn Stark. How he had said that she was like fire and how she could warm up a room and burn those who came too close. Avariella felt more like some sort of a illness in that moment, a deadly illness that slowly killed everything good it came across until nothing was left but grey and darkness. _That is the life you will have if you say here_ a voice reminded her, _you knew that once._ She was suddenly jolted from her thoughts by Shirei tugging at her arm and she wondered when everyone had stopped dancing and went back to their seats except for them.

"It's starting," Shirei whispered and they made their way to sit beside Roslin. Avariella glanced up at her father, who had risen from his chair though he was still clutching his cup of wine in his left hand. "My honoured guests," he announced, the room instantly quieting, "It is time for Frey and Tully to join their houses together in an alliance that will last until the end of time." he coughed loudly then and directed his gaze towards Edmure Tully, who looked rather pale from Avariella could see— even from a distance. "I have given you meat—" _cough_ "Wine and my hospitality. It is time for you too make your choice." A nervous hush came over the room then and Lord Walder gestured randomly at the crown and commanded, "Get up and stand over 'ere."

Avariella kept her eyes on her father as all her female half-siblings rose from their chairs and bustled to the front of the room, and stood there in one long line. She stood between Shirei and Roslin, and could feel the latter begin to tremble. Whether it was with nerves or fear she did not know, and though it pained her she leaned over and whispered in her ear, "You'll be fine, Roslin. There is nothing to be afraid of." But in truth Avariella, was afraid herself. Afraid of becoming Lady of Riverrun despite Lady Catelyn's assurances and Lord Edmure's appearances. The Starks had never kept their promises when it came to her family and that gnawing fear that had been building inside of her since they arrived had suddenly increased ten-fold. Avariella swallowed loudly but kept her gaze directly in front of her. She could hear Edmure Tully rise from his chair and could see him approach the line out of the corner of her eye.

"You all are lovely women," her voice caught, and not out of admiration but more of _fear,_ "And you all deserve all the happiness in the world, and I wish the rest of you good fortune." If a piece of straw had dropped in the room they all would have been able to hear it. _Breathe in,_ Avariella thought to herself, _breathe out._ Her heart was pounding in her chest and she wondered whether or not they all could hear it. She was sure they could because how could they not when it was beating so ferociously. Edmure Tully walked from the beginning of the line towards the end of it, his stride slow—painfully slow. She could practically feel the waves of disappointment from the sisters who he had passed; leaving them to spend their days wandering around the Twins and marrying a drunken night with a horrible stench. Avariella almost felt bad for them in those moments. Truly she did. She could feel Shirei stiffen on her left and she glanced down at her litter half-sister and her heart squeezed for a whole other reason this time around. She placed a gentle hand on the twelve year old girl's shoulder and watched as Shirei shot her a thankful glance, her blue eyes— so like Avos's in many ways— bright.

Edmure Tully stopped in front of them— in between them. Avariella's heart began to pound and she suddenly felt very light headed. _Choose her you fool. Damn you choose her!_ And slowly— and much too Avariella's eternal relief, he knelt in front of Roslin, took hold of her right hand gently and asked, "Lady Roslin Frey, will you do me the honour of becoming my most beloved wife?" _Not that she has much of a choice._ Avariella regarded her sister and realised that even if Roslin did have the choice _not_ to marry Edmure, she would, if the look on her face said anything. Her sister's eyes had widened and her cheeks had flushed but slowly a warm smile spread across her face as she began to nod in earnest.

"I will," she told him and he smiled at her and rose from his kneeling position, though he still kept his grasp on her hand. Avariella could almost feel Shirei's smile and when she glanced at her younger half-sister she looked happier than she had ever seen her. The guilt that suddenly came over Avariella was overwhelming and she turned to glance at her father quickly, and retracted her hand from Shirei's shoulder. _He's rotting in an unmarked grave somewhere in the Westerlands,_ she thought, a lump forming in her throat as the room erupted with happy cheers, _and here we are celebrating the—_

"They shall be married within a fortnight!" Her father cried out and then he glanced at the King meaningfully, who had risen from his chair along with his mother, great-uncle and wife. "Recent experience has made me wary of long engagements." If the King was very insulted by what her father said, he didn't show it. His eyes tightened but he nodded accordingly and returned, "You have every right to be." Even her father looked disappointed by his reaction. And so it was official, Roslin Frey would marry Edmure Tully within a fortnight.

* * *

The next week passed in a series of blurs and raised voices of frustration and high pitched giggles of excitement. Not from Avariella anyway, but from all the females around her it would seem. Avariella had barely any time alone in that week and she felt so suffocated—as though there was a pillow pressing down on her face. She stood there silent for most of the week, except for the obligatory smiles and laughter. The only slightly redeemable factor was Shirei; who stood next to her the whole time, either clutching at her hand or practically jumping with excitement when she spoke with Roslin. Roslin had been a mixture of nervous laughter and excitement throughout the week, and Avariella could guess as to what had her so nervous, and it wasn't something she knew her half-sister would be comfortable talking about in front of Shirei.


	4. Chapter 3 Part 2

Chapter 3 Continued

Not that Avariella was particularly equipped to school her sister on what precisely 'happened' between a man and wife on their wedding night; no, that job was much better suited for one of elder half-sisters or nieces. It was in moments such as those throughout the years where Avariella actually missed her mother. Or rather the idea of a mother. When they were younger her and Avos used to sneak into each others chambers when they couldn't sleep and make up stories as to how their mother was like. She had red hair, freckles and hazel eyes they knew that. Avariella was apparently identical to her but they didn't know what her nature was like. Was she kind and brave? Or was she cruel and vindictive? When they were old enough to realise _how_ exactly them and Roslin were so close in age they had stopped the game. And then her mother was nothing more than a name without a face— a ghost whose absence she noticed rarely. Lady Marie was her name, a daughter of some minor lord that was sworn to her father. Some nights when she was still a child she used to whisper that name into the darkness, when Avos had fallen asleep.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Shirei giggling, and she kept a careful eye on her half-sister as she bent down to pluck a daisy from the ground. This was one of several and Avariella could see the basket in Shirei's other arm was full with daisies. They were not far outside the castle and Avariella had Max accompany them, for she felt guilty for not taking him out of the kennels for two days straight. She kept herself alert for any sign of the beast— the _dire wolf ._ She could only imagine Shirei's reaction to such a thing. Avos had told Shirei stories of dire wolves and bears years ago, and she wondered if Shirei remembered any of them she had been so young. _I can't do this,_ Avariella thought to herself, _Not again._ They were all wrong about her, both Roslin and Olyvar. She had not taken it upon herself to become like a mother to Shirei after Shirei's mother had died out of the kindness of her heart. She had done it because of the sympathetic look in Avos's eye— the look of understanding he had whenever he looked at the three year old child with no mother. She had done it because he had asked her too, even if he hadn't used words. She loved her half-sister dearly but now that was all she was; a half sister. Avos had been her brother, her _full_ brother. He had been her other half and now there was this gaping whole in her chest that no one but her seemed to notice; a gaping hole where all the good and kindness she possessed was now gone.

"Shirei!" Avariella called out, struggling to hide the shakiness in her voice, "It is time for us to head back." It was the day of the wedding, and Shirei had been adamant about putting flowers in her hair. The ceremony would start later on in the evening Avariella knew, and the sun was still high in the sky but with all the guests at the Twins as well as its original inhabitants getting ready would be difficult. Shirei pouted at her from where she stood but quickly ran over to her. Avariella still had difficulty believing that Shirei was twelve. "Must we Ava?" Shirei asked, "The wedding isn't going to start for a long while. . ."

"You know how chaotic it gets when all of us attempt to get ready at the same time," Avariella told her, moving forward with Max running ahead of them, though not very far. "Besides," she added, "We need to help Roslin get ready." Shirei nodded at that and stayed quiet for the rest of their walk back into the castle. The castle itself was chaotic itself, with servants and guards running around everywhere with trays of food and candles and pieces of fine fabric that Avariella never knew the Twins possessed. "Ava," Shirei started quietly, her voice small, "Do you ever wonder who you're going to marry?" Avariella glanced down at her sharply and her brows furrowed together. "I used too," she admitted, a small lump appearing in her throat, "I used to dream of marrying knights and Lords and that I would be whisked away into a castle like one of the songs. Do you remember?" Shirei giggled at that before her features quickly grew serious once more, "Why did you stop?" Avariella halted in her steps and was suddenly unsure as to how she would explain that when Avos died, she simply hadn't cared about anything anymore but she couldn't say that to Shirei. She couldn't.

So instead she crouched down so that she was closer to Shirei's height— and Shirei was small for a girl her age. "I. . ." Avariella cleared her throat and tried again, "I changed." It was a pathetic reasoning she knew, but she couldn't find it within herself to try explain herself more. To try and make her understand how empty she felt and how guilty for having survived a war she had not even participated in. She rose back to her full height and gestured towards the open castle doors, "Go on Shirei, find your handmaiden and have her run you a bath. I have things I need to attend to." That was partially a lie, but Avariella desired a few moments alone. Shirei nodded, a thoughtful expression etched out onto her face as she walked forward, with Avariella staring at her retreating figure.

It was then that she became aware of someones eyes on her and she nearly shivered at the feeling. She glanced away from Shirei, her eyes flickering around the courtyard which was full with people and yet she did not find the person. Her frown deepened but she look away towards Max and whistled softly, grabbing his attention. "Come on boy," she called out, and began walking towards the kennels— or at least to find someone who would take Max to the Kennels. She was walking slowly in that direction when she felt that feeling again, of someones' eyes on her. And when she turned around this time she saw who it was, and it made her blood run cold. The King and Olyvar were standing near the training pen and they both seemed to be engaged in conversation. Perhaps she was wrong, and she had merely sensed the King's presence and not someones eyes on her. Still, it made her skin crawl and she ducked away quickly, and her strides grew quicker and she searched the yard helplessly for someone with a spare hand.

It was then that she felt something digging into her hip and she absentmindedly petted Max and said, "Calm down boy we are going too-" She stopped talking as she realised that the head that she just touched was far too _furry_ for it to be Max's. She dropped her hand so fast it was as though she had just touched hot coals and stopped moving, fear slamming into her. She let out a shaky breath and slowly—so very slowly, she glanced down. The dire wolf was bumping it's head into her stomach as though he was trying to access something. _Let's hope he doesn't use his teeth to try and open my stomach_ Avariella thought in horror. It then began to sniff at her suspiciously as though it could smell her fear. Her fists had clenched at her sides so tight Avariella thought they were beginning to draw blood. She could hear Max begin to growl now and he began to bark frantically. Avariella then glanced around and saw that everyone else had not noticed what was happening. She swallowed loudly and glanced back down at the dire wolf and carefully took a hesitant step back.

"Greywind!" A voice commanded from surprisingly nearby and Avariella swiftly turned around to face the King, whose blue eyes were stormy. The die wolf— Greywind— sniffed at her suspiciously once more before moving over to its master, and Max immediately ran towards her, his familiar heat a welcome source of comfort. "My lady I am so sorry for his lack of restraint," the King told her, glancing up at her from where he was looking at the beast. Avariella was sure her eyes were narrowed into a glare, and she took a small step back but if the King noticed her apprehension it did not show. "If you are going to let a beast such as that run free your grace you should have him on a tight leash." Her words were bold she knew and the King knew it as well if the way his eyes narrowed slightly said anything. Olyvar appeared next to her and gently grasped her arm, "Avariella are you alright?" She cast him a small look before smoothly removing her arm from his grip. "Fine," she replied shortly, his touch burning through her skin and into her bones.

"Just a little shaken," she added, and she could hear Max began to growl at the King. Everyone was glancing at them now, however their eyes wide with curiosity. _Notice something amiss now?_ She wanted to yell at the lot of them, but forcefully—and wisely— kept her mouth shut. Max began to growl louder. The King glanced down at Max, and something changed in his eyes then, though they still looked solemn and unreadable, he almost looked as though he were _fascinated. Is this what King's in the North find interesting?_ Avariella asked herself _a dog growling at them? As though all the beasts should bow to them without question._ The urge to hurt him grew massively after that. "Your dog is protective of you," he commented. Avariella could feel Olyvar watch her as though she were a wild animal about to pounce, and it made her anger grow. She forced a false smile onto her face, and her eyes grew cold, "Only to those who have hurt me your grace or those who plan to." She curtsied and quickly muttered before he could reply, "Forgive me, your grace but I must get to my sister, she will need my help. Olyvar if you could please take Max to the kennels I would be eternally grateful. Good day to the both of you."

And then she fled, because fleeing was what she did best.

* * *

"I'm almost done!" Shirei exclaimed excitedly, and Avariella could feel her carefully place another flower in her hair. This was hours after the incident with the King, and Avariella had kept the incident to herself. She had bathed and dressed, and Shirei had insisted upon doing her hair, and so Avariella sat there for what felt like a century as her little half sister braided and brushed and twisted. Roslin was being bathed and powdered by a group of handmaidens much to Shirei's dismay, who had wanted to be there to help her sister with every detail, except the bathing of course. So Shirei had come to Avariella's chambers, thankfully after she had finished bathing and helped her pick out a dress from the elder days. Her favourite gown. Shirei had already dressed herself, and her handmaiden Lia had done her hair, which was now braided and twisted into a bun at the top of her head. She looked pretty, her younger half-sister, more so than usual.

"I'm done!" Shirei squealed and jumped off the bed to rush in front of her. "Careful," Avariella warned, "You don't want to get wrinkles on your gown." Shirei giggled at that, barely containing her excitement to show Avariella her masterpiece. Avariella let out a sigh and stood from the bed, making her way to the mirror and was suddenly overcome with emotion at what she saw. Not by her 'beauty' but because of how she looked. She looked like the girl she was a year ago. She looked like a girl with her twin brother. Her long braid cascaded down her side and almost reached her right hip. It was a complicated braid that she had taught herself long ago and Shirei had managed to place the flowers of the daisies in random parts of it from where the braid began on the left side of her head all the way down to where it reached her hip. Her breath caught in her throat but she still managed to whisper, 'Thank you, Shirei."

"You've got to be careful," the young girl informed her matter-of-factly, "The daisies may fall out." Avariella let out a breathy laugh and thanked her younger sister, despite the pain in her chest. "Come on," Avariella said, "Lets go find Roslin." They left her chambers and made their way to Roslin's and Avariella had knocked only once when one of the handmaidens opened the door. She looked startled at the sight of them— or more started at the sight of her. Avariella had not made an effort in her appearance for over a year, and for people to know see her with her hair twisted into some complicated once more must have been like a ghost rising from the grave. "We're here to see Roslin." The handmaiden nodded and stepped aside so that they could enter the room and Shirei almost immediately bounded off towards Roslin, who stood up at the sight of them. Avariella stepped into the room and took the moment to look at her sister. She was wearing a dress with a golden base but it had green embroidered vines and flowers all over it. It clung to her like a coat of second skin, hiding no curves from anyones sight. Her under dress rose higher above the golden gown so that it covered the skin immodestly cut dress would have revealed. There was a small brooch attached to the dress right under Roslin's dress, and it looked like an oddly shaped rose. She already wore her maiden's cloak but her hair was still left untouched. Regardless, her sister looked beautiful and so Avariella told her so, watching as Roslin fidgeted nervously under her gaze. It was then that Avariella realised that she wanted to speak with you.

She cleared her throat loudly and announced, "If you all could give me a moment with Roslin." The handmaidens' in the room, Arra being once of them, quickly cleared the room. Shirei stood there, a disappointed look on her face, "Avariella do I have to go? I want to help with her hair—" Avariella interrupted her firmly, "Shirei, go downstairs and find Olyvar. I'll find you later, I promise but Roslin and I need to talk. Alone." Shirei let out a loud sigh and hurried out of the room, though by the way the door slammed a little too loudly Avariella knew she did not like it. The room was silent for a moment, and Avariella was busy debating whether or not it was an awkward silence when Roslin spoke up, a flush rising to her cheeks, "Thank you," she said shyly, visibly gulping. "You look beautiful as well, if I did not mention it before," Roslin added, and she sat back down in her chair, her skirts swaying as she did so. Avariella moved closer towards her and nodded her thanks, waiting for Roslin to tell her what was bothering her.

"What if I disappoint him?" Roslin asked so quietly Avariella thought she had imagined it. She breathed in heavily, and leaned against the bedpost, looking at Roslin intently. "The first time is never enjoyable," she told her, "Remember what our Septa taught us. In time it will become more easier and pleasurable I expect." Roslin shook her head gently, her hair moving with her as she did so, "I didn't mean. . . I meant what if he doesn't like _me?_ What if he decides I'm unbearable and fills Riverrun with his mistresses and his bastards? What if I'm barren?" She asked Avariella desperately, as though she had all the answers to her questions. Avariella could tell her that Edmure Tully would never do such a thing, that he would love her with everything in him, that he would never lay with another woman but those were words that she could not say truthfully. She did not know Edmure Tully but she did know Roslin and so Avariella moved towards her elder half-sister and told her, "Barren? You Rosby stock?" She raised an eyebrow at her, "Your mother gave father how many children? Five, six?" Roslin laughed at that, though her eyes were still tight with worry.

"Five," Roslin confirmed, her smile quickly dying. Avariella kneeled in front of her sister, her knees hitting the cold stone beneath her. "I can't promise that he'll love you," Avariella told her, looking into Roslin's eyes, "but I can tell you that you _will_ be Lady of Riverrun. I can promise you that you will survive this night, however painful it may be. And if what they say about the Tully's is true, he won't ever lay a hand on you." She smiled at her in an attempt to lighten the mood, "Besides, what man could ever be worse than father? If you can survive him for a little over seventeen years you can survive Edmure Tully." Roslin laughed at that, and finally the worry in her eyes disappeared.

Avariella rose from her kneeling position, and brushed her hands down the front of her skirts before clasping her hands together and telling Roslin, "Come now, let me summon your handmaiden so that she may do your hair." She turned around to do just that before Roslin's voice stopped her. "No," she said, "Can you do it for me?" There was a tense silence before Roslin spoke again. "Please." Avariella stared at her for a few long moments, and something inside her melted. Something inside of her dulled her grief for just a moment. "Sure," she said, and moved towards Roslin, who turned to give her her back. Avariella gathered Roslin's hair behind her back and grabbed a hold of the nearby brush, and gently began to comb Roslin's hair. It occurred to her as she touched Roslin's soft hair and with each passing stroke of the brush how much she hadn't known she missed this. It hit her with a sudden pang and she stopped momentarily, emotion making her throat constrict. "Is everything alright?" Roslin asked, interrupting her thoughts. Avariella's grip on the brush tightened as she replied, "No, nothing's wrong."

* * *

It was eerily quiet as Roslin Frey walked down the aisle to marry Edmure Tully. The Sept was not particularly big, but somehow they all managed to fit in the candle lit room, though they were admittedly slightly cramped. Avariella watched in reluctant silence as her father, old bitter man that he was escort Roslin down the aisle at an unbearably slow pace. _Is the walk to hell always so slow?_ She wondered, her jaw tightening as she glanced at Edmure Tully, who looked as nervous as Roslin did an hour or so ago. Shirei and Olyvar stood on either side of her as they watched their sibling be married. They were standing in the front row of the left side of the room, with the King, Queen, Lady Catelyn and the Blackfish standing in the front row of the right side of the room. Avariella only glanced once in their direction before promising herself never to do so again.

Her father and Roslin reached the Septon and Edmure and Lord Walder Frey deposited his daughter there with a quick, wet kiss on her cheek and a dark look towards Edure, before walking shakily down the steps, to the row of people behind Avariella. She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, and could hear Olyvar do the same. Avariella cast her elder half-brother a look, and he glanced at her and something very akin to understanding passed between them. The moment was broken when the Septon called out in a loud voice, "You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection." They both turned to look at the front of the room then, and Avariella found that Roslin was glancing at her nervously. She shot her a soft smile, and then saw her cast another nervous glance towards her right. Avariella followed her gaze and saw it land on the King, who looked as solemn as he usually did. And then it struck her how this could have been a very different wedding. How it could have been _her_ marrying _him_ instead of Roslin marrying Edmure. The thought made her insides squirm with disgust but before she could look away he sensed her gaze on him and turned to catch her eye. _Avos isn't here because of you!_ She wanted to scream at him, her heart pounding in her chest. She was the one to finally break their gaze and she watched in silence, biting down on her tongue.

The Septon instructed the couple in front of him to lace their hands together and wrapped a string around their interlaced hands that would bind them together forever. "Look upon each other and say the words." Avariella could see them glance at each other nervously, a flush rising upon both of their cheeks. "Father, Smith, Warrior," they said simultaneously, "Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am his and he is mine, from this day, until the end of my days."

And with those words, her family was bound to the Tully's.

 **A/N Sorry this chapter took so long to update guys, but this chapter was long. Very long. I hope you guys like Avariella, despite her vices. I tried— am trying to make her a fully fleshed out character. Hopefully, to you guys I am succeeding. I've finally managed to outline the entire plot of this series for the most part, and I am going to warn you from now that there will be more OC's in this story. AND OMG THE RESPONSE TO THIS STORY HAS BEEN SO GREAT GUYS! Thank you so much. Feel free to review and tell me your thoughts! Until next time,**

 **Fionakevin073**


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The room was unbearably warm and stunk of mead and sweat. Laughter and loud, drunken voices filled the air as well with the musicians banging on their drums. Avariella winced at the sound. It would seem that the musicians were desperate for them all to hear their music. Not that they were particularly bad players, Avariella admitted to herself, but no one cared as to whether or not the music was good. Almost everyone was too drunk to care. Avariella cast a glance at Shirei and Olyvar, who were dancing along with many others to the lively tune. Avariella thought it was The Bear and the Maiden Fair but she couldn't be sure. The singer was drowned out with the sound of lively talks and laughter.

Avariella watched all of this with a blank stare of indifference but inside rage roared within her. She glanced up at the high table where Father, his lady wife, Roslin and Edmure all sat and she nearly blanched in disgust at the sight of Roslin feeding Edmure grapes out of her hand. _Dear gods,_ she thought and took a large gulp of her wine. She was only on her first cup despite the fact that it had been hours since the ceremony, as she wanted to keep a close eye on Shirei. _I'm going to need more if I'm going to be able to stomach that_ she thought and took yet another gulp. Surprisingly enough, it did not taste to bad though it was _too_ sweet for her liking. _No matter,_ she told herself, _wine is wine._ Her lord father had never bothered to control his children when it came to it, and had never looked bothered when one of his younger children was stumbling drunk. He had never once told any of them of any limitations they had when it came to drinking. _He probably hoped it would drive most of us to an early grave._ The thought was a dark one, but one that she knew to be partially true when it came to some of her siblings. _I'm one of them now._

She snuck a glance at her lord father, who was gulping down a cup of wine, and knew in her heart that he had not forgotten what she had said to him a few weeks before. Nor had he forgiven. Not that Avariella had expected him to, but she was still wary of what punishment he had planned for when his _beloved_ guests finally left the Twins. When Roslin giggled beside their father it occurred to Avariella in the back of her mind that her sister would be included in those leaving. The realisation made her stomach clench but she was determined not to focus on it. It dawned on Avariella that she had not expected for them to part for a quite a while longer. Most of Walder Frey's offspring, even the true born, were lucky if they ever got to leave. Most of them were stuck here with their husbands and children, since majority of the time the husbands never had keeps of their own. _I'm going to be one of them,_ Avariella thought, _I'm going to have to marry one of those stinking drunkards who will always be deep in their cups when they come to my bed._ Not that that was always a bad thing, she allowed, sometimes it was better for them to be drunk, it made it end faster.

She shook her head quickly, banishing all of her dark thoughts. She glanced down at the food on her plate, and a cut a small piece of the meat placed on it. _What is that?_ She wondered, _Pork? Beef? Lamb?_ She couldn't tell and that in itself told her that she didn't want to know. She lifted the fork up hesitantly to her mouth, and took the piece of meat in her mouth. _That's lamb,_ she told herself firmly, _that is most definitely lamb._ It was a bit tasteless but it was better than what they usually had to eat. She took another bite of it and another, until all the meat on her plate was finished. Avariella had nearly eaten anything all day, and suddenly she was starving. There was some pie on her plate, but even though she knew they tasted horrid from years of experience in that moment she did not care and ate it quickly.

"You must have been hungry." Avariella stiffened at the sound of Black Walder's voice. She laid down her utensils carefully and was careful to hide the jolt of fear that she felt. "What do you want?" She snapped at him, her hazel eyes cold. He slid into the seat next to her and his smile was both deadly and threatening. "You rat," he snarled at her, his dark eyes flashing. Avariella blinked at him once, and clasped her hands together tightly in order to stop them from shaking. "These guests won't be here to protect you soon enough," he promised, "And then. . ."

"And then what?" she goaded, and raised an eyebrow at him in a pretence of fearlessness, "You hit me once, twice. . .?" His face flushed red with anger, before a malicious glint appeared in his eye as he leaned closer to her. She could smell the mead on his breath he was so close. "I've heard a lot about you from Ser Trent, Avariella. He happens to be very. . . _fond_ of you, if you please. With one suggestion to father I could persuade him that you should make amends for his injury by. . . I don't know, marrying him?" Avariella's eyes had widened with shock, and she couldn't have hidden her fear even if she had tried. "You wouldn't," she whispered, feeling nauseous. His mouth twisted into a grim smile, "Wouldn't I?" he challenged, and left her.

She felt so very cold in that moment, despite her previous claims of the room being unbearably warm. Her hands had begun to shake in horror at the thought of. . . She couldn't even bare to think of it and suddenly she felt so suffocated she nearly ran out of the hall. _Don't let him see your fear,_ she told herself harshly, closing her eyes. _Do not let him win._

But it was hard to convince herself of that when all she could think of— all she could _feel_ was Ser Trent on top of her, grabbing at her, touching her with his large, sweaty hands. When all she could hear was her helpless cries in her ears. Avariella shuddered at the memory and reached for her cup and took another large gulp, trying to banish the memory from her mind. _They are not worth your fear._ She let out a sigh and took another gulp of wine, and was displeased at finding that her cup was now drained. She signalled for one of the servants to refill it and glanced at Olyvar and Shirei, who were still dancing happily, oblivious to her. . . _Your what?_ Avariella asked herself, _your pain? Your fear? You're not exactly in the position to be accosting them for not noticing your pain Avariella._ She nearly winced at the words but she knew they were true. She remembered the fierceness in Roslin's eyes earlier as she commanded her to take care of Shirei, to not ' _go away again'._

The words still stung deep down, though it was difficult for her to admit. Whether or not because she thought it was true or because she thought Roslin was too harsh she didn't know, and when she saw Shirei and Olyvar walking towards her she knew that it wasn't the time to figure it out either. Olyvar was saying something to Shirei that made her toss her head back and laugh and Avariella would have smiled at the sight if she wasn't still shaken up. "How was it?" she asked them when they reached her, taking a sip of her wine. "It was so much fun, Avariella!" Shirei squealed, sitting beside her. Olyvar cast their younger half-sister an amused glance and sat down on the other side of Avariella before telling her playfully, "This one is dangerous out there— beware!" She watched with a small smile as Shirei leaned over her and hit Olyvar on the shoulder, a smile breaking out on her youthful features.

"I'm not going to have to since I'm not dancing," Avariella reminded him, watching as Shirei leaned back in her seat and pouted at her before asking, "Why can't you? You used to be the best." Avariella let out a small chuckle at that before gesturing to her hair, "I need to make sure the daisies don't fall out so you don't butcher me in my sleep." Shirei giggled at that, her cheeks warming under the candle light. Truth be told, Avariella was slightly worried that someone in their drunken stupor would knock one of them over and set fire to the hall. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Did you get that refilled?" Olyvar asked her, peering at her cup of wine. Avariella blinked at him before nodding. He smiled at her wryly before taking a sip of his own cup, and the moment was broken by Shirei's voice, "Can I have a cup Avariella?" Avariella turned in her chair to stare at her younger half-sister before shaking her head. "No," she answered simply, watching as Shirei pouted in disappointment. "You and Avos were drinking wine at my age!" If she noticed how Avariella stiffened at the mention of her twin, she didn't show it. Olyvar did though, and he stepped in quickly before her silence grew awkward. "That was different Shirei," he told her, glancing worriedly at Avariella, who was momentarily frozen. "And how do you remember that?"

Shirei blushed for a moment before replying, "I remember them taking sips from your cup at a feast we had a few years ago. If they could drink, why can't I?" Avariella snapped out of her shock and quickly quipped, "Because we say so." And with a meaningful look at Shirei she quickly dropped the subject with a pout, understanding that the topic was closed. Avariella remembered that feast well, even though it was five or so years before. They had both tried wine before, though only one or two sips at a time. That night they had both got drunk even though in between them they had only approximately one cup. Avariella remembered how giddy she had felt, and how their laughter had echoed around the halls as they tripped over themselves trying to get to their chambers. It had been a good night, despite the way their heads had hurt when they woke the morning after. The thought of Shirei drunk wasn't a sight she could picture.

She was snapped out of her thoughts by Shirei's whisper. "They look happy," she whispered, staring directly at Roslin and Edmure. Avariella and Olyvar shared a look before Avariella answered, "Indeed they do." Shirei glanced up at her then, her eyes filled with curiosity. "Will either of us be that happy on our wedding day?" Avariella's mouth opened in surprise at the question, and she could see that Olyvar looked startled as well. It took her a moment to respond or better yet, to conjure up a response of some kind. What could she say? Should she lie? Lying wouldn't do her any good, she knew that, Shirei was far too innocent as it was. So with a heavy heart Avariella told her gently, "I don't know," she smiled ruefully, "I hope so." _For you up in the North._ But she didn't say that. She knew that it would upset Shirei for it implied that Avariella herself would not be happy, and she didn't want to get her half-sisters hopes up.

Shirei smiled back at her, but for once her smile didn't seem full of joy, and was instead a sadder smile. "One of us could go to the North," Shirei whispered, loud enough for only her to hear. Avariella cast a meaningful glance at Olyvar, who nodded quickly and stood from his seat, and ruffled Shirei's hair before going on his way to-gods-know-where. "You're really worried about going up North, aren't you?" Avariella questioned gently, her eyes focused intently on her face. Shirei nodded and glanced at the ground, avoiding her gaze. "Why?"

Shirei gulped nervously and slowly but surely looked into her eyes, "I've heard the stories about the North Ava!" she said, a little too loudly before lowering her voice, "I've heard about the giants and the white walkers and how the Northmen are savages. I don't want to go there. I'm scared. Remember the stories Avos told us?" Avariella nearly sighed at her half-sisters worries, and the sadness that crept into her heart at the mention of her brothers name was great. Avos had always been the storyteller of the group, along with Olyvar. She vividly remembered nights they all spent in one of their chambers, camped out on the bed with either Olyvar or Avos telling them stories. They told tales of the giants in the North, and the gold of the west and of dragons across the narrow sea. Avos always seemed to come alive whenever he was telling a story, either one he had created or one he had over heard or been told. Not that the Maester and Avariella's and Roslin's Septa ever told them tales such as those.

"Shirei," Avariella said calmly, gently grasping the bottom of Shirei's chin. "Look around you," she told her softly, gesturing around her. Shirei nervously glanced around the crowded hall, her eyes lingering on random Northmen across the room. "Do they seem like savages to you?" It was unfortunate that one of the Northern lords let out a particularly loud bellow and rose from his chair, towering over all those below him. Shirei gulped and stared at her with wide eyes. Avariella refused the temptation to groan out loud before she glanced over at the Kings table. "Look at them," she said, her gaze focused on Lady Catelyn, King Robb, the Blackfish and Queen Talisa. "Do they look like people who would sacrifice children? Or dine with white walkers, who have been dead for over eight thousand years?" Shirei shook her head and smiled before muttering, "No." Avariella smiled at that and let out a small chuckle, which caused Shirei to smile nervously too. _Good_ she thought, happy to have quelled her sister's fear for a short while.

 _She would have a difficult time adjusting,_ Avariella thought, _up in the North_. But Olyvar would be there to help her, she reassured herself. Olyvar would take care of her. That is, if they even chose her. Avariella was vaguely aware of Olyvar coming back to sit next to them, and it took her a moment to realise that he was staring at her, his eyes filled with desperation. "What is it?" she hissed at him, when Shirei was busy giggling at one of their half-brothers who had taken a tumble. Olyvar paused for a moment, and sent a pointed glance Shirei's way and lowered his voice, "The bedding is starting soon." Avariella immediately snapped her head towards Roslin's direction, to find her sister's face, though still lovely, had grown pale.

"Maybe you should take Shirei to bed," he murmured, "She shouldn't see something like this."

Avariella gazed at him for a few moments before looking down at Shirei, and though a part of her agreed with him, she found herself shaking her head. "No," she said lowly, "We can not shelter her all her life, Olyvar." He looked as though he were about to protest before she quickly cut him off, "Better she see something like this with us then stumbling in on father or some other family member of ours fucking." She sent a quick glance behind her back to make sure Shirei wasn't listening. "She know's what a bedding is by now, Olyvar. It would be better if she knew what to expect when the time comes for her turn. That way she isn't taken by surprise, and overwhelmed." Olyvar still did not look convinced, but Avariella didn't care. Shirei was a child yes, and with childhood came innocence that was quickly sucked out by life's hardships. Shirei wasn't simply innocent; she was pure. And with purity came naivety, which led to bad people taking advantage of those who didn't know any better.

Almost as if on cue, her lord father rose from his chair, and instantly the music came to a stop. The chatter in the room quieted but an air of anticipation and excitement grew as her lord father began to speak. "Your grace, the Septon has prayed his prayers," she could feel Shirei stiffen beside her, her features widening with realisation as she realised what was happening. Avariella did not know the true extent of Shirei's knowledge of the bedding ceremony, but she herself had known about it when she was Shirei's age. She had even witness one of them when she was younger than Shirei. "Some words were said," her father's face was twisted into a lustful smile, "And Lord Edmure has wrapped my daughter in a cloak." A few laughs echoed across the room, and a few jeers. "But," her father added, his wrinkled face stretching unnaturally as he both talked and smiled at the same time, "They are not yet man and wife." More laughter. Roslin looked nervous now, and her eyes flickered across the crowd, as though she were looking for someone. "A sword needs a sheath." Her father let out a laugh, and it was a horrible sound, like that of a crow, "And a wedding needs a bedding." The whole room was cheering now, at least everyone except Avariella, Olyvar, Shirei, the King and his table, and Roslin herself. Though Edmure looked far too pleased with himself, a smirk appearing on his face.

"What does my sire say?" After the words left his mouth everyone else began banging their cups of wine on the table to show their eagerness. "Bed! Bed! Bed!" they all cheered in unison, though their banging was off point. Avariella saw the back of the King as he rose from his chair and walked over to her father. The voices quietened.

"If you think the time is right Lord Walder, by all means. . .let us bed them." The cheers were immediate after that, following the sound of chairs being scraped back as they all clambered over to the newlyweds in their eagerness to bed them. Avariella, Shirei and Olyvar had risen as well though none of them made any move to join in. Avariella caught Roslin's eye from across the room, and she could sense her sisters fear from here. She tried to smile at her comfortingly but she wasn't sure if Roslin saw. Shirei was holding tightly onto her hand now, her eyes wide as she watched both Northmen and her own kin alike practically rip at Roslin's clothes as they carried her over her shoulder. Avariella moved closer towards Roslin, who looked panicked on top of their shoulders.

The musicians began to play "The Queen Took Off Her Sandal, the King Took Off His Crown" though it was mostly drowned out by the obscenities the men were shouting at Roslin. _How fitting,_ she thought, as she recognised the song, _the king in the room doesn't even seem to wear a crown._ She watched helplessly as they carried her sister off and she managed to catch her eye one last time before she was carried off to her marriage bed. She observed in disgust as her elder half-sisters dragged an all-too-willing Edmure across the room, tearing at his clothes with no sense of dignity or shame. Not that Edmure seemed to notice, for he was smiling like a fool.

Anger pierced her heart as she stood there quietly, and she was immensely thankful when the lot of them finally got out of the room, leaving only a few in their wake. She turned back to look at Shirei, who looked incredibly disturbed and shaken by what she just saw. Olyvar was looking at her intently, and she could see it in his eyes that he was angry with her for making Shirei stay. She strode over to Shirei, and crouched lower so that they were eye-to-eye. "Shirei," she said firmly, staring into her eyes, "I know that seems scary doesn't it?" She nodded, her face pale. "And in that moment, I'm sure it is. But that's all it is, Shirei. A moment. A silly, insignificant moment that won't matter to you in years to come. Heck, I bet that Roslin will have forgotten all about it by this time tomorrow." It was a poor attempt at humour she knew, but it was the best she could do. She rose from her crouching position and straightened the skirts of her dress and turned to look at Olyvar. "Will you take Shirei to my chambers, please?" Olyvar nodded at her but remained silent, and simply held out a hand to Shirei, which she gladly took and Avariella watched as the made their way out of the room.

She released a sigh she didn't even know she had been holding, and was startled to find Catelyn Stark standing behind her, having been watching them for gods know how long. She must have looked startled because the elder woman smiled at her apologetically, her blue eyes lighter than usual, "Forgive me, my lady, I did not mean to startle you."

Avariella looked at her warily but managed to get out evenly, "No worries, my lady." Lady Catelyn was still staring at the door from which they had all exited and so Avariella found herself standing closer to her, facing the same direction. "Your poor sister," she murmured. Avariella stared at her out of the corner of her eye but quickly replied back, "Every bride suffers the same." And then because she felt inclined to compliment the Starks and their ever-growing honour she quickly added, "I am sure you endured your's with grace, my lady." If Lady Catelyn noticed her icy tone, she didn't show it.

The older woman turned to look at her, and a rare, wistful smile appeared on her undeniably beautiful face. "Oh Ned forbade it. He said it wouldn't be right if he broke a man's jaw on our wedding night." The reminder that Avos would never get a wedding night pained her deeply, but she managed to hide her pain with a small, unconvincing sound of amusement at the back of her throat. "I am sure you will endure your's with grace," Lady Catelyn told her, her eyes hiding her thoughts. Avariella stared at her suspiciously, her thoughts running wild. _What in the seven hells is that meant to imply?_ She wondered, horrified at the prospect of Lady Catelyn being there on her wedding night. Which implied Avariella being in the North. She nearly winced at the thought, but tried to hide her discomfort at the older woman's comment.

"Thank you, my lady," she managed to muster, and the elder woman took that as her cue to walk away. Avariella watched her as she did, and her insides tightened at the sight of the King and Queen staring into each others eyes, talking quietly amongst themselves. _I wonder if she handled her bedding with grace_ she thought venomously before moving back towards her table, eager for another cup of wine. The players in the gallery had finally gotten both king and queen down to their name-day suits when something made her stop in her steps. The players had begun to play a very different song. A song she had heard off the lips of drunken soldiers that had returned home. The singer did not sing the words, but Avariella knew the Rains of Castamere when she heard it.

She froze where she stood, the realisation of what the song symbolised had rendered her numb. Her limbs felt like stone strapped to her body and she thought that even if she attempted to move she would not be able too. _Is this what I think it means?_ She thought to herself. She could only know one way for sure. It took everything in her to turn her head to glance at her father and somehow she was not surprised to find that he was already staring at her with his murky blue eyes. _Father,_ she wanted to say, _father._ He raised his cup of wine at her as though they had just made a toast and took a sip. _What does this mean?_ They stared at each other until the last bang of the drum until another song began to play and then the moment was gone as quick as it came.

But Avariella knew in her heart in that moment that Walder Frey had not forgotten, and what that meant both pleased her and frightened her. _Dear gods father,_ she thought, _what are you dragging us into?_

* * *

Avariella rose the next morning with a face filled with Shirei's hair. The younger girl had fallen asleep in her chambers, and by the time Avariella came to her chamber she was far too tired to move her and had simply undone her hair and changed into a night dress. Shirei had not even done that much, though her hair had come undone in her sleep, hence it being all over Avariella's face when she woke. She lay there for a moment, staring up at the canopy after she had removed the hair from her face.

She could feel Shirei's warmth beside her, could hear the sound of her breathing. It was strange having another human sleep beside her— not that she had many people sleep in her chambers, only Roslin, Shirei, Avos and Olyvar on the rare occasion— but it still felt strange to her. Too strange. It made her feel trapped. She carefully extracted herself from Shirei's arms and walked over to her wardrobe and was suddenly struck with a sudden urge to swim. _Yes,_ she thought, _a nice, cool swim will do be some good._ She hadn't gone swimming for several days because of the preparations for the wedding. The wedding. Her insides twisted at the thought of the ceremony, and of the bedding but that moment between her and her father lingered. _Was it a moment of insanity?_ She pondered, _or did I simply imagine it? Or was it just a coincidence?_ In that moment, it hadn't seemed like one.

And by how her father had looked at her, at the expression in his eyes, she knew that it was no mere coincidence. She changed out of her nightdress quickly and slipped on a simple white gown on top of her small clothes and pulled on her long cloak, clasping it in the middle. She cast a glance over at Shirei, who was still sleeping peacefully, and felt slightly guilty at the thought of leaving her here on her own without a word. She walked towards the bed and leaned over to gently place her hands on Shirei's shoulders and shook. "Shirei," she whispered, and stopped her shaking when she stirred, "I'm going for a swim." Shirei turned onto her other side, burying her face in her pillow.

Avariella leaned back, satisfied with the result and walked out of the room, and closed the door quietly, as to not wake Shirei. Judging by how quiet the hall was, Avariella suspected that it was only shortly after first light. The household and their guests would not be rising from their beds until noon at the very least, still sobering up from their drunkenness the night before. Her mind drifted off to Roslin, and she wondered whether or not she was in pain. Avariella shuddered at the thought of _why_ she would be in pain, and pushed the disgusting thought from her mind.

* * *

Though it was warm outside, the sky was dark and cloudy, though there were signs of the sun trying to break through, and momentarily succeeding before being blocked by the clouds once more. This did nothing to lessen her desire to be underwater, and yet she still took her time walking to the small lake. She watched Max bound ahead of her and let out a small sigh. He had not left her side the whole time they were on the castle grounds, and even after they had walked a good distance away from the castle he had stuck to her side. No doubt he was wary of the dire wolf— Greywind, she reminded herself— making an appearance again.

The sun finally broke out in a sudden clearing in the clouds, and Avariella was thankful for the way it warmed her skin and shone through her hair. The wind began to pick up slightly, making her hair flap behind her like a banner. It had grown hot under the sun and the clouds showed signs of disappearing. _Good,_ she thought, she had forgotten a towel yet again, the sun would make her dry faster.

When she finally reached the small lake in the woods she nearly ran over to it in relief. She had barely had a moment to herself this past week. Avariella had grown used to being alone most of the time, and to be suddenly be swarmed with company for most of her waking moments for a week was difficult to adjust to. She unclasped her cloak and laid it down carefully on the grass so that she could lie on it. The water looked all too tempting and it almost felt as though it were beckoning her towards it. Max lay down next to her cloak, no doubt to keep an eye on her in the water. She took of her shoes and placed them on the other side of her cloak.

She bent down and patted Max quickly on the head before moving towards the edge of the water. Avariella stood there for a moment, absorbing the feeling of the breeze fluttering through her hair and the grass against her feet. The lake was peaceful, and still as a statue. Avariella frowned slightly before sitting down and sliding her legs into the water. Her white gown instantly began to cling to her legs but it didn't bother her. Today was a quiet day, a peaceful day even. She had no desire to jump in and break the sudden light feeling inside of her.

The water, though clear, was cold. She knew that in a few moments she would grow used to it but for now it was sharp and caused goosebumps to appear on her arms and legs. She leaned back on her elbows and glanced up at the sky, glad to see the grey was fading into a nice, warm blue. She didn't know how long she lay there under the sun, her legs in the now-lukewarm water and she didn't care. Quickly, she edged herself into the water and sank down to the muddy bottom before pushing upwards and rising out of the water with a gasp. She paddled in the water for a while and eventually turned on her back to stare up at the sky, the sounds of the forest and the echo's of the Twins being muted by the water in her ears.

She stayed there for a while, getting out of the water and drying under the sun before going back in again. It takes a while for her to realise that the sun is now high in the sky and she has been there for many hours. Long enough for Shirei to start worrying. The thought makes her jump up with the start, and she hastily puts on her shoes and picks her cloak off the ground, brushing off any stray pieces of grass. Max also jumps up, sensing her panic. She slides on her cloak and clasps it as she begins to walk quickly, not looking where she is going.

The walk back to the Twins seemed longer than usual, and she wondered if it was because she was walking slowly or just because. She's not walking slowly and her strides are quick and relentless, and Avariella felt as though she were not in control of her legs. Her heart was pounding in her ears when she past the gate and ran up the stairs to enter the castle. She ignored the bewildered stares of the servants at her attire and made her way to the great hall, her damp hair bouncing against her cloak.

Avariella turned the corner that led to the great hall before stopping in her footsteps. Her attire was never something that particularly concerned her nowadays but she knew that if she stormed the great hall with dripping wet hair and muddy shoes she would draw attention to herself. Unwanted attention. She turned on her heel and strode just as quickly away from the door, and made her way towards her chambers.

She was not surprised to find that Shirei had already risen, and when she shut the door she quickly took of her cloak, shoes and gown and left them in a heap on the floor. She changed quickly into another gown after drying herself with a small cloth she had left on her night stand and brushed her wet hair, pinning back two pieces of it. After she had finished clothing herself and stepped out of the room, she took notice of Max waiting outside the door obediently.

She sighed at the sight of her most loyal friend and bent down to pet him, a small smile forming on her lips. "Come on boy," she said softly, rising up to her full height. Avariella did not need to look behind her to check if he was following; she knew. They made their way down to the ground floor of the castle, before Avariella was stopped on her way to the great hall by a serving girl.

"Lady Roslin has asked for me to send for you my lady," the serving girl told her, eyeing Max with fear, "she is breaking her fast along with Lady Shirei and your brother in your father's solar." Avariella stiffened at that detail before asking, "Was my father there when you left?" The serving girl shook her head and muttered, "No, my lady. Lord Walder does not use his solar very often." That was true, but she still felt the need to ask. Avariella nodded and allowed the serving girl to escort her to her father's solar.

* * *

When Avariella entered the room with Max at her side, all eyes flew up to stare at her. She stood there in the doorway for a few, awkward moments before hesitantly stepping into the room, the door shutting behind her. The solar was surprisingly well kept for a room that was rarely used. It was reasonably clean and the furniture was more posh than any of the other rooms in the Twins. She wondered if it was so clean because of their guests.

"Avariella," Roslin said, her eyes focused on her, "Come."

Avariella snapped her gaze towards Roslin, and carefully observed her. She looked remarkably well-restored, if a little bit tired. Her honey coloured hair fell down her shoulders with the upper half-twisted into an elegant bun. Relief flooded through her at the sight of her half-sister being alright and she realised that she had unknowingly worried about her all night long. She remembered the fear in Roslin's eyes during the bedding ceremony, and was glad to see that they were for nought. She walked towards the table, nodding her greetings to both Olyvar and Shirei who nodded them back, the latter looking happier than the former.

"You look well," she told Roslin, and some of her relief lingered in her voice. Roslin smiled at her faintly, her brown eyes suddenly looking tired. "Thank you," Roslin replied, and gestured to the seat across from her, and next to Olyvar, "Please sit." Avariella nodded and sat down carefully, eyeing the food laid out on the table. The room was silent for a while after that, before Shirei began to eat once more, prompting Avariella to do the same.

"You were gone for a while," Roslin commented, her gaze still on her, "We were beginning to worry."

Avariella glanced up from her plate to stare at her sister, and noticed the sadness and tiredness in her gaze. She frowned at the sight before quickly smoothing out her face and replied evenly, "I went for a swim down by the lake in the woods." It was Roslin's turn to frown then and her voice was both filled with worry and reprimanding. "That place is filled with horrible spirits, Avariella. You should—"

"Don't tell me that's still bothering you," Avariella interrupted, staring at her. Shirei looked between them, startled. Roslin's gaze was unwavering as she stared right back at her. "You stopped going there because of it," Roslin returned, before adding, "At least for a few years before—"

"Before what?" Avariella demanded, her hazel eyes flashing with anger, "Before what, Roslin? Before Avos died? Before _our_ brother died?" Someone could have cut through the tension with a knife. Max began to growl from where he sat behind her and the sound was comforting to her ears. Olyvar suddenly stood causing his chair to scrape back against the wooden floor. He moved around the table and tugged at Shirei's hand, muttering, "Come on, Shirei. Lets give them some time alone." The door closed softly and yet neither Avariella nor Roslin broke each others gaze.

Avariella was the one who spoke first.

"You summoned me here _my lady,_ " her words were venomous and full of rage, "Why?" Roslin sighed at that and suddenly all the anger melted off her face. "I _asked_ for you all to come here because I wanted to tell you in person that my husband and I are leaving two days." Shock appeared on Avariella's features and a lump began to form in her throat. "I wanted to tell you before you found out from someone else." Avariella felt shaken as she stared down at her hands, shame and shock forming into one, making all her bones feel fragile.

"How. . .how did they get ready so fast?" Avariella whispered, her eyes flickering up to meet Roslin's sad ones. "They have been preparing since the week before the wedding. They are all eager to go home." Another thought occurred to Avariella. "Is the King leaving with you?" she asked, her voice tight with worry. Roslin shook her head, much to Avariella's relief. "No," she said softly, "But he is leaving shortly thereafter."

Another awkward silence followed before Roslin spoke shakily, "Look, Avariella. . .with me gone Shirei—"

"Is going to be distraught and upset which means I am going to look after her," Avariella finished, "And then I have to do so again when Olyvar leaves as well. Though she has gotten used to him being gone during the war." There was a moment of hesitance before she told her, "I am trying to convince Lady Catelyn to chose Shirei to take up north." At the stunned look on Roslin's face she elaborated, "If any one of us deserves to leave this hell of a place we call home it's her."

The stunned look on Roslin's face softened to one of shame as she spoke with wide-eyed-wonder, "You. . . you were organising to give our younger half-sister a future same as me and I thanked you by—"

"Don't," Avariella interrupted sharply, raising a hand to silence her half-sister, "There is no need. You raised a valuable concern." Roslin still looked guilty however, despite Avariella's protests. "And if they chose you?" Roslin asked, "What then?" Avariella reached for the cup in front of her and took a sip from it. "They won't."

Another moment of silence passed between them, though this was one of understanding, not awkwardness. Avariella then smiled wryly before asking playfully, "So how was he?" They both laughed at each other, their tension forgotten.

* * *

It was two days later when Roslin and Edmure Tully— she still had a hard time wrapping her head around it— left the Twins. It was a cool, cloudy day as they stood there in front of the Twins, the wind howling above their heads. Avariella stood next to Shirei, a blank expression of formality on her features. They had already said their 'farewell' to Lord Edmure, and now waited patiently for Roslin to finish saying her goodbyes to the rest of their siblings. Avariella heard Shirei sniff loudly beside her, and glanced down at her to see tears streaming down on her face.

Her heart clenched in her chest but she stayed silent, glancing up at the grey sky. It was fitting weather for such an occasion, she noted, clasping her hands together in front of her. The past two days had been spent helping Roslin pack the belongings she wished to take with her to the Twins. Shirei had gotten emotional over the course of those two days but Roslin had always been there to hug her and comfort her. Soon enough— hopefully enough, Shirei would soon be in the North. Avariella had not spoken to Lady Catelyn or the King over the past two days, too preoccupied with Roslin's impending travel to Riverrun to bother seeking them out.

She glanced at the pair of them now, who stood next to her Lord Father with solemn expressions on their faces. The sudden spark of anger that formed within her seemed oddly out of place with the grimness that hung in the air at Roslin's departure. She glanced to her right at Shirei, and was surprised to find that Roslin was already there, hugging their little half-sister who was sobbing loudly now. Avariella watched numbly as Roslin whispered something in Shirei's ear that caused her to giggle and cry at the same time and then Roslin rose and disentangled herself from Shire and turned to face her.

They stared at each other for a few, long, torturous moments, words hanging on either of their lips. _I'm sorry,_ Avariella wanted to say, _I'm sorry for leaving you and blocking you out. I'm sorry for never telling you I was sorry. I thought we would have more time._ Her chest suddenly felt heavy with emotion, and her eyes began to sting. Her heart crumpled in her chest when she saw Roslin's eyes begin to do the same, and suddenly it was though a damn had broke as they embraced each other fiercely. Avariella's eyes had shut tightly as she savoured the moment, her arms tightening around Roslin. They didn't say anything for a while, and instead simply held onto each other like they never wanted to let go. Avos had been her whole life, had been her other half, and the only other person in the world who had ever come close to the bond she and her twin shared was Roslin. And now she was losing her too. To the very people who took away her brother.

"Take care of her," Roslin whispered against her hair, her voice tight, as though she were about to cry. Avariella nodded against her cheek, her throat too constricted with emotion to speak. "Take care of yourself," she managed to whisper back. She felt Roslin smile as she breathed back, "You too." Avariella didn't want to let go, but slowly, eventually she began to loosen her embrace and disentangled her arms from Roslin. They stared at each other once again, and Avariella felt her heart plummet when she saw that Roslin was crying.

"Farewell Lady Tully," she said softly, managing a weak smile.

"Farewell Lady Frey," Roslin returned, and with another small sad smile, she returned to her husband. Avariella felt Shirei wrap her arms around her waist and sob quietly into the side of her stomach. She raised a hand to Shirei's head and began to stroke her hair comfortingly, unable to speak words. She didn't move as she saw Roslin be escorted into her carriage and when she turned back to wave, she waved back numbly and watched with a solemn expression as the Tully banners began to disappear further and further until she could no longer see them.

She glanced to the side at the King and Lady Catelyn as she continued on stroking Shirei's hair as she continued to cry and the sudden wave of anger that washed over her was so great she nearly collapsed. She glared at them both, furious with the world. _Haven't you done enough?_ She wanted to scream at them, _you have already taken so much from me._ The King seemed to sense her gaze and looked at her, his blue eyes unreadable. _This is your fault,_ she spat at him inwardly, _my gods I hate you and your cursed family._ By the way his gaze softened ever-so-slightly she could tell that he knew.

* * *

Avariella watched Shirei play with Max from a small distance away. It had only been yesterday when Roslin left and her younger half-sister had been inconsolable for the rest of the day. Only sleep had managed to prevent her crying, and even now, under the sun, Avariella could still see how red-rimmed her eyes were. Shirei was still sad however, even as she played with Max in the grass outside the Twins.

She was sitting on a long, thin blanket she had brought out with them, along with some cakes from the kitchens that were Shirei's favourite in a basket. It was difficult to see her so sad since she was usually so happy. Though it was still hard for her to be around Shirei, she planned on keeping her promise. She would take care of Shirei, and make sure she went to the North even she had to die to manage it. Avariella watched them for a long while before she heard someone approaching her from behind and turned to glance up at whoever it was.

She stiffened at the sight of Lady Catelyn standing over her, with Lady Brienne standing behind her dutifully. Dislike coursed through her and she had to force herself to stop glaring at the elder woman. "Lady Avariella," Lady Catelyn began, "I would like to begin by apologising for the loss of your sister but I can assure you she will be happy at Riverrun." _She was happy here._ "You earlier expressed your desire that your sister be the one chosen to take to the North. I would like to speak with her." Avariella's heart sunk in her chest at the thought of her talking to Shirei but she nodded silently and murmured, "If you think it necessary then by all means, do talk to her."

The elder woman hesitated but a moment before she spoke again, "My son would also like to speak with Shirei as well but before he does so he would like to talk with you." Avariella nearly laughed bitterly at that and barely managed to contain herself from doing so. "Alright," she said, her tone verging onto that of being rude, "Where is the King then?"

"Right behind you, my lady," a cool voice answered behind her. Avariella nearly jumped at the sound of his voice before standing quickly, and turned to face him. "Your grace," she greeted, not even trying to make herself sound pleased at the sight of him. She was vaguely aware of Lady Catelyn waking over to Shirei but she did not dare remove her eyes from him.

"My lady," he said, offering her his arm, "May we walk?" Avariella's skin crawled as she took his arm and responded, "Yes, your grace, we may." They walked in silence for a few paces before he began, "I would like to apologise for the death of your twin, my lady. I never had the opportunity to do so beforehand—" _You've had weeks—_ "And for Lady Roslin leaving. I can only imagine how much you both must miss her presence here. Though I can assure you that you will see her again."

He must have felt her stiffen because he asked, "You don't believe me, do you my lady?"

Avariella came to a halt and removed her arm from his, and turned to stare at him. "Would you, your grace? The last time someone I loved left because of your family and promised that I would see them again it did not come true." She was being brazen, she knew but Avariella didn't care. He deserved it in her eyes.

The King replied stiffly, "That was war, my lady—"

She smiled at him wryly and said, "I read that marriage is a whole different kind of war, your grace."

"I suppose that may be true in some people's eyes," he replied stiffly, his blue eyes unwavering as they stared into her hazel ones. She didn't dare look away in case it was misread as a sign of weakness. "Forgiveness does not come easily to you, does it?" he asked quietly, his blue eyes void of any self-pity or entitlement. He was asking because he was genuinely curious, not because he was bitter of her clear hatred of him.

"If you want forgiveness, choose Shirei to take to the North, your grace," she blurted out, her eyes desperate. "Please," she added, her voice softening, "she deserves to leave this place." And even though she hated herself for pleading with _him_ of all people, he was the only person who could save Shirei from this wretched place. He observed her with a softened gaze and she looked at him with her heart pounding furiously in her chest. "Alright," he said, much to her everlasting relief, "I will." She nearly fell over with relief at his answer before she remembered who she was talking to. "Thank you your grace," she said formally, and even though she still resented him with every fibre of her being, she meant it.

He nodded at her cordially and murmured in reply, "You have my word, my lady."

And so it was with a great deal of hesitance that she trusted him to keep his word that Shirei would be the one taken to the North. From what she could tell, he meant it when he said it as well. He would announce the news tomorrow at supper and then they would leave however long it took after that. That was the plan, set in stone in her mind.

At least, until disaster struck.

* * *

It was later on that afternoon when Avariella noticed the whispers around the castle. Shirei was at her lessons with the Septa after they had returned back to the castle with the King and Lady Catelyn. She had bumped into Olyvar then, who had stood there, gaping at her. No doubt he had been surprised that she hadn't attempted to claw out the Kings eyes. She had confided it him the plan, since he was also travelling North with the King. He had looked relieved, if not peaceful when she told him.

Avariella turned the corner that led to the great hall, and was surprised to find a large group of people standing in front of the closed doors, eavesdropping. Her heart pounded in her chest at the sight, and she had this uncomfortable feeling of something being very, very wrong. It was then that she noticed Olyvar, who looked wide-eyed and pale as he stumbled over to her.

"Olyvar what is it?" she demanded, her heart in her throat.

He wiped a hand over his face, sorrow evident on his features. "What is it?" she asked harshly. The bitterness in his eyes was unlike anything she had ever seen from him. "One of the Stark soldiers attacked one of ours. Our guard was killed," he choked out, frustration now evident on his features. "Father is furious with the King and demanded that their be retribution." Avariella's heart sunk in her chest, "What kind of retribution," she asked quietly.

His eyes could barely meet her own as he told her sadly, "He is asking for the King to allow _him_ to chose who goes to the North and Avariella. . .I heard your name."

 **A/N DUN DUN DUN! I would like to start off by thanking all of you for everything. Your reaction to this story has been so great! I am so incredibly thankful. Now, I noticed in some of your reviews mentions about Ava's. . . grief. Avariella is someone who is ruled by her emotions and Avos had been her best friend and the person she loved most in the world. Even more than Roslin, Shirei or Olyvar so when she lost him, she lost the whole world. If any of you have read the hunger games, you know that Katniss's mother was bedridden when her husband died. Avariella is kinda like her in the sense that she was depressed when Avos died, except in that time no one really knew about depression or how to treat it, so she's kinda handling it on her own. Though her depression is not as bad as Katniss's mother. I hoped you all liked this chapter! Please feel free to tell me your thoughts! Thanks again!**

 **Until next time,**

 **Fionakevin073**


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Avariella didn't know how to breathe. She remembered an accident she had once as a child. She had been climbing a tree, the tallest one she could find, in an attempt to prove that she could to Olyvar and Avos. She remembered how infuriated she had felt at their smirks, and how she had cursed her septa and all her lessons of elegance and manners and set out to find a tree, if only to wipe those smirks of their faces. She had scrunched up the skirt of her dress with her hands and began to climb up the tree. It had been fine for a while, with Olyvar and Avos's playful laughter and encouragement egging her on until she had slipped. She had reached the top of the tree before accidentally stepping on her dress, which sent her falling backwards. Avariella remembered how light she had felt; like a bird, helpless to the howling wind before she had landed onto the ground with a large _thunk._ It was as if the impact had knocked out any wisp of air from her lungs, and she had laid there, struggling to breathe.

That was how she felt now, trying to remember how to breathe and unable to say anything. She felt her eyes go wide with horror and it occurred to her that a sound escaped her throat. It was something between a gasp and a sound of pain. _Breathe,_ her mind whispered, _breathe._ It took her a moment of bewilderedness to realise that she had taken a few slow steps back away from Olyvar. _No no no_ she whispered breathlessly, though she did not feel in control of herself; of her mind or body. _Gods no._ She stumbled back before she hit a pillar, which halted her movements. She was slowly regaining herself again, the numbness in her bones slowly evaporating in place of a frantic panic. _He may have heard incorrectly,_ she told herself, _father know's that I do not want to go to the—_

The door of the great hall opened, and the crowd immediately dispersed in a poor attempt to hide the fact that they had been eavesdropping. Avariella felt her breath leave her again, making her mouth fall open as she staggered forward, feeling lightheaded. _The King,_ she thought, pushing past a few people with surprising strength, _he gave me his word—_

A small gasp left her mouth at the sight of him. She halted in her steps, her back straightening like an arrow, hope blooming in her chest. _The Starks keep their word,_ she told herself, _he gave me his word—_ She caught his eye in the crowd. She could feel Olyvar behind her, ready to catch her if she collapsed. They stared at each other for a moment, the Stark and the Frey, before he slowly and inconspicuously shook his head. In that one slight motion, she saw the end of hope. She saw the destruction of everything she knew. _Shirei_ she thought, stumbling back into Olyvar, who grasped a hold of her tightly. But before he could ask her what was wrong she pushed at his chest and slipped through the crowd, desperation making her move faster, fear making bones shake inside her and gods-know-what making her run. She ran so fast she felt like the wind. She didn't know where her feet were taking her, only that they were taking her somewhere away from there. Away from her half-brother and his concerned eyes, away from Shirei and her kind smile, and away from the Starks' and their lies.

Away was good. Away was what she needed. Away was far closer than she planned. Avariella was partially aware of everything around her. Of the servants who had stopped what they were doing to stare at her in surprise; the others who stared at her with annoyance due to her brushing past them or bumping against them. She was aware of bolting through the front gate that led out onto the path to the forest and she kept on running, showing no signs of tiring anytime soon. She had not run so fast since she was a mere child, playing games with Avos. Now she was no child but a woman grown, with no twin— no _true_ brother. And now she was going to be taken away from her home and sold off to a northman like cattle, and one of her children will be set off to marry one of _his_ offspring. And it was all her bloody fault.

Avariella wasn't aware that she was falling until she hit the ground elbow first, causing pain to throb through her. Her dress was covered in mud at the front, as were her hands and parts of her face. A sob racked through her chest, escaping her mouth despite the fact that she had bitten down so tightly on her lower lip it bled. And then another sob. And another. Until she was sobbing on the ground, with damp muddy grass beneath her and no one to hear her cries. _You stupid girl,_ she cursed herself, _why did you ever provoke him? Why? Why? Why?_

"Why couldn't you keep your mouth shut?" she asked herself, tears still streaming down her face furiously. _Why? Why? Why?_ The rage and grief and sorrow inside of her— the hatred she felt _for_ herself began to dim and her tears began to run dry. She still hiccuped as a result of her sobbing, but it was no longer as violent as it had been before. She swiped angrily at her eyes, eager for her tears to finish falling but knowing that she couldn't rush them. She had to be rid of her weakness now, and then go back onto the battlefield. It wasn't official yet. Her father had not yet chosen her— at least directly to her face. There was a small chance— however it small or tiny it may be that she could make him pick Shirei. _Make_ wasn't the proper word for someone like her father; convince or persuade was better. Avariella slowly began to push herself up, and it took everything in her to do so. _For Shirei,_ she told herself, _for Avos. For his memory._

When she was finally standing she wiped at her eyes once more, which felt raw and wet still. She knew she looked like a mad woman, and she supposed she was one, momentarily but moved forward towards the castle. Her heart began to beat faster and faster like a drum in her chest, _doom boom doom boom._ Her father liked her better when she looked pretty, almost as if the sight of her like that was proof that he could make something look decent, despite his own physical shortcomings. Muddy and red would not do. And so when she snuck back into the castle she immediately made the way to her chambers, and commanded a nearby servant to bring her bath water. When she eventually found herself in the bathwater, scrubbing at herself furiously, she was surprised to find that her hurt and grief had vanished in place of a unwavering determination.

She scrubbed herself so hard her skin turned bright red from her efforts, as red as the hair on her ahead that now clung to the back of her neck and shoulders. She climbed out of the bath and began to dry herself. It was times like these where Avariella missed Arra. Arra who had been more like a mother to her than an of her father's wives over the years. Arra who had only been a few years older than she. Arra, whom she had not had a proper, personal conversation with in over a year. The thought made something stir within her, before she quickly quelled it down and began brushing her hair, with a robe now on.

When she was finally dressed in one of her better gowns, one which she had sown herself and had pinned and brushed her hair back nicely, she was thankful that it was supper time already. She cast her room one last glance, and her heart sped up at the thought that this may not be her room anymore if she didn't change her father's mind. That this room would one day be filled by one of her nieces or nephews or half-brothers and half-sisters. She had grown up in this very room. She had cried in this room, and bled and this room and laughed and grown up. This room was her childhood. And now she may have to leave it in favour of some cold room up in the north, where she may freeze to death in her sleep. The mere thought made her shiver.

 _Avos,_ she thought to herself, _I need your help._ But her brother wouldn't answer. He would never be able to help her ever again. Avariella closed her eyes and summoned her strength, what little of it was left and forced herself out of the room, for fear that she would never leave it again.

* * *

The great hall was not fully crowded just yet, but her father was already there thankfully. Avariella stood there under the arch of the doorway, her heart hammering in her chest. _Should I pray to the gods?_ She thought to herself, clasping her hands together to keep them from shaking, _But then again, the seven have never answered my prayers._ There was a time when she had faith in the gods, and in their justice. That time was no longer. _I'll pray to you, Avos and your memory. I'll pray to the life that was stolen from you, and the honourable death you deserved._ Her eyes flickered around the hall, and she saw no sign of the King and his party just yet. She did not know whether or not that was a good thing. Avariella felt her breath catch in her throat as her eyes met her father's and suddenly she was no longer there but at Roslin's wedding feast with the Rains of Castamere playing in her ears.

 _What are you up to, Father?_ she wondered, and moved forward towards him, her steps shaky and small. _You can do this, Ava_ a voice whispered in her head, a voice so familiar and loved all her fears slowly melted away until—

"Ava!" Shirei said loudly, tugging at her hand. Avariella halted in her steps, the spell broken and turned to look down at her half-sister. "Olyvar said you had run off and I heard some servants said that you were crying but you don't look as though you were crying Ava—"

"I'm fine Shirei," Avariella told her, trying to reassure her quietly, though she was sure her eyes may have betrayed her, "Let's go sit down." She let Shirei drag her to a table, before sending a covert glance to her father, who had begun to sneer lustfully at his wife. Avariella fought back a grimace of disgust before looking forward, and felt herself stiffen at the sight of Olyvar. She fought the impulse to look away from him and regain herself and stared at him directly in the eyes, refusing to look away. She remembered how she had felt earlier, fragile and angry and sad and alone and helpless. Her eyes hardened as she looked at him, a deep, deep anger forming in her bones, spreading all over her body.

 _I trusted him,_ she wanted to yell at him, _I listened to you and look at us now. Look at what has happened._ Olyvar looked away from her, as though he could tell what she was thinking. Shirei seemed to sense something was off between them, and sat in the middle and began to ramble on about her lessons. Avariella had finished her lessons with her Septa shortly after she had turned ten and five, and had been glad of it. Septa Yuliah was a bitter old goat who took great pleasure in seeing children unhappy, and even more pleasure in being the cause of it. Avariella remembered her countless insults and sly comments with a sure taste of displeasure in her mouth. Back then however, Avariella had loved sowing and dancing and learning of history despite her foul tutor and had hated maths and what little they learned of valyrian. And music. Music had been Roslin's specialty, though Avariella did not have that bad of a voice.

She was disrupted from her thoughts when she took notice of Shirei's happy expression melting off her face, like snow. She turned around in her chair to see who— or what— had caused her sudden unhappiness and instantly took notice of the King and Queen entering the room, with his great-uncle, mother and a few banner men behind him. She could feel Shirei stiffen next to her, and could see from her peripheral vision that her eyes had widened with nervousness. Shirei knew about what had occurred earlier on today. A sudden fierceness coursed through her, and she shifted in her chair so that she was facing Shirei, her back to them, and grabbed a hold of her shoulders.

Her gaze was hot as she stared into Shirei's nervous blue eyes, which looked like rippling water and told her fervently, "Listen to me, Shirei," Shirei nodded feebly, her blue eyes wide and frightened, "No matter what name comes out of father's mouth you _will_ be alright." One of her hands reached up from Shirei's shoulder to cup her cheek affectionately, a fierce protectiveness within her blooming like a flower, "I promise you that, by the old gods and the new." Shirei looked at her, her skin paler than usual and whispered, "What if the gods aren't enough?" Avariella felt a lump lodge in her throat as she stared at the child before her, the child who had changed so much within the past year, and Avariella had not even realised it. Too absorbed in her own grief to notice or care.

Avariella struggled with what to say for a few moments, and made sure not to meet Olyvar's piercing gaze. She stroked Shirei's cheek, and looked into her eyes once more, her heart heavy in her chest. "Then I promise you by Avos. By Roslin and Olyvar. By my mother and your mother and our father and all our siblings and nieces and nephews and uncles and aunts." She pressed a cheek on Shirei's forehead, and settled back in her seat, keeping a careful watch on all their guests. She caught eye of Roose Bolton, though his back was to her and a shiver went up her spine. The Lord of the Dreadfort was married thankfully. Avariella could only gape in horror at the notion of her marrying that cold man. She wondered if he had a son, and then grimaced at the idea, and banished it from her mind. _You haven't been defeated just yet,_ she thought, glancing at Shirei.

As though her father read her thoughts, the old man rose slowly from his chair, and Avariella could have sworn that she heard his bones cracking from here. The hall went instantly silent at the sight of him standing, and Avariella could hear her elder half-sisters catch their breaths a few tables away from them. She cast them a look, noting the excited looks on their faces, except for Wyona, who looked eager for it to be over with. _How lucky for you,_ Avariella snarled bitterly in her head, before quickly redirecting her gaze to her father. _Help me Avos,_ she thought, closing her eyes tightly for a moment, _help me._ She opened her eyes once more, her hands clutching tightly onto the wooden table, and stared at her father, her gaze unblinking. His gaze flickered across the hall, his mouth twitching into a smirk despite his random coughs here and there.

"My honoured guests," he wheezed out, triumph dripping from his voice, "Due to actions that occurred earlier today," he coughed loudly before regaining his 'composure', "His grace has been so kind as to allow me to choose—" he cleared his throat. Avariella wondered how a man so old and so beaten down could look so victorious and proud. "Which one of my daughter's will be sent to the North and wed to one of his banner men." He sent a glance towards the King, his mouth stretching into a smirk. _He's taunting him,_ she realised, and glanced at the King quickly, whose expression was unreadable, as was the Queen's. She looked back at her father before the King could sense that she was looking, and while she did so she felt a hand on her own. She looked to her side, startled to find that Olyvar had reached over and placed his hand on top of hers, with Shirei slowly doing the same. They would go into this as one. As a family. _Without Avos,_ her heart whispered, clenching painfully in her chest despite the fact that her chest had warmed ever-so-slightly at the gesture.

'Thank you,' she mouthed at him, before looking back at their father. She was surprised to find that he was directly staring at her, and blinked rapidly, before reciting a quick prayer to the gods. _Prove to me that you exist,_ she thought, _give me this. You have taken so much from me, show me this mercy. Please. Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. Give me this. For Shirei and for Avos._ Her father continued after a long pause, "And after careful consideration I have decided to send—" he coughed once more, his eyes bulging out of his head. Avariella felt her heart beat rapidly in her chest _,_ and she was sure that Olyvar and Shirei must have felt it. She glanced down at their intertwined hands, and as though Olyvar could sense her fear, he squeezed her hand tightly, and before long Shirei did the same, though for reasons of her own. She caught Olyvar's eye but before she could say anything her father managed to collect himself and wheeze out, "Lady Avariella."

The effect it had on the room was instantaneous. There was immediate clapping from the Northern side, though she suspected it was because none of them remembered who each of them was, and it was merely out of polite courtesy to clap. Her half sister's instantly scowled but clapped limply amongst themselves, though she could the questions in their eyes. _Why her?_ they were asking, _She has made it no secret how much she despises the King and his family. She has already shamed us in front of them. Why her? Why her and not me?_

 _Punishment,_ her mind whispered, _he's doing it to punish me._ The rest of her family had a similar reaction except for one. _Shirei. Oh dear gods Shirei._ Her younger half sister had looked at her with poorly concealed horror, her eyes instantly watering with tears as her mouth opened as though she were to speak, except no words came out. A sob escaped Shirei's throat, and though it physically pained Avariella to do so she rose from her chair, causing it to scrape back mindlessly against the floor. "Get her out of here," she ordered Olyvar, "take her to her room." He nodded at her, and gently lifted Shirei up into his arms. Shirei began to try and reach for her once she realised what was happening, "No! Avariella no! Please don't go!" Her screams echoed through the hall long after they had left. _I don't want too,_ she thought sadly before quickly shaking her head and telling herself harshly, _you must be strong Avariella. You must change his mind._ Surely her father had some shred of humanity within him left. _He must. A part of him must love us, no matter how small._

Her hands felt sweaty at her sides. Avariella took a deep breath and clenched her hands into fists before summoning the scraps of her courage that remained and walked towards her father, who had seated back down. The room had grown slightly louder since Shirei had left, but people were slowly taking notice of her stalking up to her Lord Father with a wild look in her eye. Lord Walder Frey however, looked unimpressed as he looked up at her hazily, as though she were a fly that was annoying him.

"What do you want?" he snarled at her, his mouth still full with food as he spoke. She tried to hide her disgust at the sight, and calmly began, "My lord father, I am here to—"

"If you plan on asking me to change my mind the answer is no," he father interrupted flippantly, swallowing the food in his mouth. Avariella felt her heart drop to her stomach, her eyes widening slightly. She felt unsettled at his carelessness, which may not have been unusual behaviour from her father it was still unnerving to see her father care so little about them. Still, she took another deep breath, and tried again. "Father," she said quietly, leaning forward so that her hands rested on the high table, "I beseech you to change your mind. Send Shirei in my stead, I beg of you." Her father peered at her mistrustfully and snorted, "And why would I do that?" She was fighting a losing battle, and she knew it. He knew it too. "If you bore any love for my mother and my brother— _your son_ who died, you will please do this for me, for them—"

"And did they ask you to do that from their graves hmm?" her father asked, before coughing once more, "No," he quickly stated before she had a chance to answer, "You want me to send Shirei so you do not have to go." Avariella felt herself flinch at his words, but forced herself to try again, "Father I beg of you, do not let Shirei stay here on her own if you love her—"

"I hope you realise how unloved and unwanted you really are, even by your own children," her father quoted, his blue eyes blazing, "That is what you said to me." Avariella felt her cheeks flush with shame and frustration, and stood there silently as her father continued, "You will go to the North and do what women do best; allow their husbands to squirt children into their belly. You are pretty, prettier than that little pest you are so fond of. You will go to the North and that is final." Avariella felt as though everything within her had been drained out. All her anger, and determination and grief and shock and _emotion_ had vanished into thin air, leaving nothing but emptiness in its' place. She turned around to look at the King, who was already staring at her. _You're a king!_ She yelled at him internally, _do something you coward!_ But he did nothing and simply stared as her life was ripped right out of her.

She stumbled backwards, and Avariella felt as though she were not in control of her body. Everything was suddenly dream like and foggy as she made her way out of the hall deliriously, giggles erupting from her throat as she reached the end of the hall. She bumped into a servant on her way out, and clumsily commanded her to bring two jugs of wine to her chambers.

* * *

That was how Olyvar found her, gods-know-how long later, with a cup of wine in her hands and the first jug half-empty. "Welcome!" she said loudly, though her mind was only faintly hazy. Avariella could only imagine how she looked in that moment; defeated, mad and broken. "I take it father did not change his mind?" he asked carefully, shutting the door behind him with a soft thud. There were a few candles lit throughout her room, which she had somehow managed to do despite her. . . _condition._ Avariella barked out a bitter laugh and took another swing from her cup, "You don't say," she muttered sarcastically.

Olyvar eyed her carefully, before walking over to her and sitting beside her on the foot of the bed, their legs resting on the chest right in front of it. The silence was thick and heavy as they sat there, both at a loss for what to say. "You did everything you could," he told her softly, raising a hand to her shoulder. Avariella stiffened under his comforting hand, but did not shake it off. "It wasn't enough," she said tonelessly, her chest void of any emotion except for this _hollowness_ that was slowly consuming her whole. "You told me that the Stark's were men of their word," she whispered, taking another sip of her wine, her cup almost empty, "This is all his fault." She didn't have to clarify who _he_ was.

Olyvar stiffened beside her and quickly came to his defence, much to her annoyance, "His hands were tied Avariella, his grace would have kept his end of the bargain if not for the soldiers—"

"Why are you defending him?" she cried, her eyes wide with horror as she managed to slide off the bed, turning around to look at him furiously, "Why do _worship_ him so?" Olyvar shook his head, his mouth opening to defend himself, "I do not—"

"Yes, you do!" Avariella accused, some wine spilling from her cup due to her frantic hand gestures. "This _is_ all his fault Olyvar, we wouldn't even have to be in a position for him to ' _hold his end of the bargain'_ if he had just kept his cock in his pants!" She was shouting now, her throat raw and aching, "Avos wouldn't be dead if he had just gone home and sworn fealty! Hells, if his father hadn't gone down to King's Landing the war would never have happened!" A tear was streaming down her cheek, and it burned her. Her shoulder's sunk as she stared at him helplessly, and her chest began to heave. "No matter what way I look at it," she whispered, sniffing, "This is all his fault. And I will never forgive him for it, Olyvar. I won't." A pause. "I can't."

Olyvar's eyes were gentle as he looked at her, "You can't say these things to other's Avariella—"

"I'm not an imbecile," she snapped, her tears instantly gone, and her back straightened like an arrow. "I wasn't saying you are," Olyvar told her gently, "but if they catch word of these things they will condemn you—" Avariella snorted at that, and quickly poured herself some more wine from where the jugs sat on the table nearby. "They are already condemning me to a life of misery," she said tonelessly, her back to him. She felt him move off the bed, and start to walk to her. "Avariella—"

"Don't," she snapped, raising a hand. She felt him halt in his steps, and could practically feel his _pity_ slamming into her like the waves of the sea on a bank. "Just go," she whispered impassively, taking a sip of her wine, liking the burn it gave her throat. Olyvar still wasn't moving. "Get out," she snapped, "Just. . . just leave me alone." She had said those same words to Roslin months before, but for entirely different reasons and yet for the same effect. She wanted to be alone. _You fool,_ her mind whispered, _you should have just kept to yourself._ It had all been for nothing. Helping Roslin, bonding with Shirei, making something close to peace with the both of them. . . it had all been for nought.

 _I should have just stayed alone._

Olyvar left without a word.

* * *

The pounding in her head wouldn't stop. Avariella groaned loudly as her eyes fluttered open and curled back into herself on the bed. Her head was aching with an intensity that had her stomach in knots and bile rising up her throat. "Ugh," she murmured against her pillow. She had finished both jugs of wine over the night, and had fallen asleep only a few hours before. It took her a moment or two to remember _why_ she had been drinking so much and the realisation made her heart clench painfully in her chest. _Gods,_ she thought, before her mouth twisted into a scowl. The gods hadn't done anything to help her. Neither had the oh-so-precious King in the North. The thought of him made her stomach churn and she slowly propped herself up on her elbow, her hair brushing into her eyes as she moved. She flipped her hair back with a small huff, her head spinning due to the effort that simple action took.

Once the spinning in her head had stopped, she gradually began to climb out of bed, her eyes darting around the room for any sign of vomit. She was grateful that there wasn't, for now, at least. When she managed to walk to the bedpost she stumbled on a bucket near the foot of her bed. She frowned down at it, and realised that someone must have been in her room whilst she slept. Arra probably put it there. The thought may have made her heart warm if it were not for her suddenly retching into the bucket, her throat burning as tears streamed down her eyes. She made sure that her hair was tucked behind her face with her hands as she continued on vomiting, her stomach churning. Once she was finished, she slumped down next to the bucket on the ground, the stone cold against her cheek. Avariella did not know how long she lay there, breathing, until Arra came in with a bucket of water for her bath.

"My lady!" she heard Arra gasp, and the door shut with a loud bang, causing her to groan. "Are you alright?" Arra asked, kneeling down beside her and gently pulling her upper body upwards. "That. . . that need's emptying," Avariella murmured tiredly, "And mint leaves, I need—"

"Shh, shh, yes milady I will fetch you some mint leaves," Arra interrupted, and somehow managed to prop her up against the bed as she rose and went back for the bucket. Avariella watched detachedly as she moved to the other side of the room and poured the water into the tub behind the bathing screen. She began to mumble feebly under her breath, her mind sluggish. Arra's legs came into view before Avariella felt arms wrapping themselves around her waist, and pulling her upwards until she was on her feet. "Thank you," she mumbled, a large part of her hair moving in front of her face once more. Avariella held onto one of the bed posts as Arra worked at undoing the laces of her dress and the shift under it. Once the garments had loosened, Avariella mindlessly pulled them down her body, eager to be rid of the sticky and sweaty dress, shift and small clothes she had slept in. "Come, my lady," Arra murmured, wrapping Avariella's arm around her shoulder so that she could support her.

Avariella nearly jumped at the feeling of the water beneath her toes, and it was thanks to Arra that she didn't fall over onto the ground. She sunk down into the water slowly, the warmth soaking through her body, though the coldness she felt did not lessen. "Do you want to go to the North," she murmured, sounding as though she were a mad woman. Arra stilled beside her, and asked her quietly, "Would m'lady wish for me to go to the North with her?" Avariella shrugged carelessly and mumbled back something incomprehensible. Avariella wrapped her arms around her knee's and buried her face into her arms, as though she were trying to hide herself. Arra began to lift water onto her head, causing her red mane to cling to her scalp. "Perhaps the North will not be so bad," Arra said in a poor attempt to cheer her up, "There may be many things for you in the North—"

"There's nothing," Avariella whispered, "There is nothing for me there, there is nothing for me here." She let out a bitter laugh that broke after a moment, and rested her chin on her knee's. "There is nothing left, Arra. There is nothing of _me_ left. Everything has been broken down and stripped away," she breathed brokenly. Arra opened her mouth to protest before Avariella quickly cut her off, "Please just go," she said gently, "Thank you for your help but I need to be alone." Arra nodded but stayed still for a moment, looking as though she were about to say something before changing her mind. She left quietly, after she had picked up the empty bucket by the tub, the dirty clothes, and the bucket filled with her—

Avariella blocked the thought from her mind, and sunk deeper into the water until her face was submerged. She lay there under the water until her lungs began to burn and her eyes began to bulge out of their sockets. She coughed out some water but was otherwise alright. At least, physically alright. The pounding in her head had dulled somewhat, and she lay there in the tub for a long while. Long enough that Arra had come back with some mint leaves and some water for her to drink. By the time Avariella clambered out of the tub it was well past midday and she dressed herself in her white swimming gown and cloak, and brushed her hair whilst chewing on some mint leaves.

It was a strange feeling, she decided, leaving the Twins. When she was younger she had longed to leave the Twins if only to escape the stinking halls and leering drunkards. She had longed to leave with Roslin, Olyvar, Shirei and Avos by her side. Especially Avos. He would have become a knight and serve her husbands household and then marry and live in a nearby keep to her own. They would have been happy, in her daydreams as a child. Now, those daydreams were wishes that would never come true. Avos was dead, Roslin was gone, Shirei would be left behind in this hell they call a home, and she was going to the North. The North which was barren and dull and grey and nothing like her home. The life inside of her would be sucked out like a leech, Avariella was sure of it. Then she would be married off to the suitor who had the most to offer her father and watch helplessly as one of her children would be sold off to one of the Kings children. When he eventually had one, that is. The thought made her want to be sick once more.

She placed her brush down on the nightstand and looked around her room. She would have to begin packing soon, for when they were to leave. It suddenly occurred to Avariella that she had no idea when they were leaving, or how long she would be staying in Winterfell. Now that she thought of it, she had no clue as to what eligible 'suitors' the Northerners had. Would they all be like Roose Bolton? She shivered at the thought but then grimaced at the thought of marrying a northman that looked like a bear. Grim and dour, that's how the Northerners were described throughout the seven kingdoms. _Six now,_ she corrected herself, and then one independent Kingdom. She realised in that moment how little she knew of the North. When she had first heard of the marriage contract between her House and House Stark, she had wanted to read more about the North, truly she had. But she had been caught up with taking care of Shirei and finding gold for her father and managing the coin spent during the war and recording how much was lost and gained during the war in her ledgers. Avariella had made sure that their larder's were fully stored in case winter came. She hadn't had the time to even think of Winterfell during the days, and at nights when she thought of her possible husband, she quickly thought of her brothers instead.

Now, she had had all the time in the world to learn about the North. Except why would she have? She despised— _despises—_ the Stark's with every fibre of her being, and she never expected to set foot in the North. And now look at her; the Northern Frey or the would-be-Northern- Frey. She would have laughed if not for the emptiness that still consumed her. Avariella made her way out of her room but before she did that she removed the mint leaves from her mouth, and winced at the sound of the door closing. Her head was still somewhat sore but it was getting better slowly. Gradually.

The chamber hallway was quiet as she walked down it, no whispers echoing through the doors, no sounds of someone moving within their chambers. Nothing. It was rather late in the day Avariella knew that, but she was still somewhat surprised. It was a rare occasion that a place in the Twins was relatively quiet, especially in the East Castle. When she made her way down to the ground floor of the Twins, she was surprised to see another crowd outside the great hall as she walked past it. She frowned at the sight of the crowd before her frown deepened at the sound of a voice raising within the great hall, echoing through the closed wooden doors.

"Welcome," Olyvar said suddenly, standing next to her, "You look well." By the dryness in his voice, she knew he was lying, but she didn't have the heart to call him out on it. Every movement she made felt as though it needed twice the effort, and her heart seemed to have vanished into thin air. Or it had hardened into stone overnight. Yet still, she found herself asking, "Olyvar, what is going on?" Last time this happened— dear gods was it only yesterday?— the worst possible thing had occurred. Olyvar raised his eyebrows at her, his eyes flickering, "The King has requested a meeting with father."

Avariella merely raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "And?" she prompted, her eyes dull. She no longer gave a damn as to what the Stark did, he had already proven himself useless twice before; she had been a fool to trust him a second time. Olyvar shrugged at her and murmured, "Shirei wanted to come and see you but I convinced her to go to her lessons instead. . . I thought you would rather her not see you like that." _Like what?_ Avariella thought? _Beaten? Broken down? Broken?_ She had seen her like that before, in the weeks that followed after Avos's death. Or she should say, after she had found out that Avos had died. Avariella remembered how she had stared at the wall, unmoving and uncaring of the world around her, and how she had shrunk into herself. Olyvar must have been thinking the same since he winced at his words, but before he could continue she brushed past him.

Avariella hurriedly exited the hall and made her way to the kennels without a care in the world. _No one can touch me now,_ she thought, _I'm the one Walder Frey chose._ Mayhap's she was still slightly drunk, and that drove her to this foolishness; she didn't know nor did she care. If Ser Trent or any other drunk tried to touch her her father would have them punished. _Unlike last time,_ she thought rancorously and folded her arms in front her chest. There was some leering here and there by the drunkards that lingered in the small alleyways and corners but she was otherwise left alone. _Just a few more moments,_ she told herself, _you're almost there._ The kennels were a small, dirty place that stunk of dog shit and hay, but there was no other place to put Max so she brushed past it with grace.

A man called Willis was the kennel master of the Twins, and she supposed that he was decent enough, as far as men from the Twins went. He always had a litter of children fluttering around the area, that were always loud and laughing. "Stop that Rae!" he was yelling at one of his children as she appeared by the doorway. "Oh," he said when he noticed her, startled, "Welcome milady," he murmured, averting his eyes from her empty gaze. _He must have heard of what happened,_ she decided. No one knew how to act around her, they treated her as though she were made of glass and would break at the slightest push. _Too late,_ she thought wryly, _I'm already broken._ He knew without her needing to say it that he should go get Max, and soon enough after she heard some chains clanging together and a gate opening Max bounded over towards her, barking happily. "Hi boy," she murmured, petting his head. Her eyes flickered up to look at Willis, who was already looking at her. He flushed a bright red when he realised that he was caught and just before she left he called out after her, "M'lady!"

She halted in her steps and turned to look at him, arching an eyebrow. "I. . . I'll take care of him when you go, milady. He will be well taken care of and. . . you will be missed." Avariella stood there, staring at him for a few moments in silence before she murmured back, "Thank you, Willis. . . I appreciate that very much." She offered him a small smile that did not match the look in her eyes or how she felt inside and walked out of the room, the smile instantly sliding off her face.

Max stayed close to her as they made the way to the gates and instantly what little attention she had before was gone. Max was arguably the most feared thing in the Twins after the attack by Ser Trent, despite him being very young. She remembered how small her loyal friend had been when Avos had given him to her for her thirteenth name day. _Oh how the time has gone,_ she thought sadly, and for the first time that day she actually felt _something_ other than emptiness.

They were still quite a distance away from the gate when she caught sight of the group of men. Max instantly began to growl as he caught sight of them as well, snarling so strongly his teeth were showing. "C'mon wench show us what you go under those clothes of your's!" one of them was yelling, no doubt already drunk. _How drunk,_ Avariella thought, a look of distaste appearing on her face. The man who had just yelled stepped forward, revealing Ser Trent next to him. Her heart dropped to her stomach at the sight of him, and she began to walk faster because the memories of him atop of her were doing back and how she had cried until—

"This one has a tan on her!" Ser Trent was booming, his voice slurred, "A foreign whore!"

 _No,_ Avariella thought in disbelief, _the fool. It couldn't be._ And yet she stopped in her steps with a small sigh and tried to take a better look. Then, sure enough, the Queen in the North was standing there, her back against a wall with her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed. "What the. . ." she breathed, stalking up to the men, with Max growling louder and louder as she grew closer.

"What in the seven hells are you doing?" she cried, brushing past the men to reach the Queen. "That is the Queen you fools," she snarled at them, looking at them with disgust in her eyes. The men instantly paled and took a step back, their eyes widening with fear much to her satisfaction. The Queen stood next to her quietly, her eyes downcast. "Go," she commanded, Max getting ready to pounce, "Now!" They scampered off without a second thought.

"Thank you," the Queen stated, her brown eyes looking stronger that she looked, "I fear they would not have stopped if you hadn't come by, my lady." Avariella regarded the Queen with a cold look and muttered back, "They wouldn't have, your grace." _I know that all too well._ The sound of Ser Trent's cries as Max ripped off two of his fingers echoed in her ears and she resisted the urge to flinch. "You should not venture here without a guard, your grace," she advised, her eyes flickering around the area as if to look for one. _Why don't you have one already?_ she thought to herself, leaning down to pet Max, who was still tense with danger. "Calm down boy," she murmured, gently touching his head.

The Queen seemed to grow back into herself, her eyes becoming distant and yet still full of kindness. It struck her as odd that someone could seem so vacant and yet so _there,_ her beauty commanding everyone's attention. Her eyes however, conveyed a deep sorrow and it was then that Avariella remembered that the Queen had lost her child a few months beforehand. A stillborn, if the rumours were correct. Her heart softened ever so slightly as she regarded Queen Talisa but the memory of her brother prevented her from offering any apologies. _Sally,_ they all called her behind her back, _a foreign whore who seduced the young wolf._ Avariella didn't know what to make of her, the beautiful queen with sad eyes.

 _You have a beautiful bridge._

Avariella had not thought of they encounter for a long while and yet the words came to her now, echoing in her ears. She was suddenly struck with a eager desire to escape her company, as she felt as though she were about to suffocate. The Queen must have sensed it because she offered her a small smile and said, "I look forward to our next meeting, my lady. I hope that next time it can be under better circumstances." Avariella offered her a courteous smile and curtsied, but before the Queen walked off she said, "I hope we can both be happy in the North, at Winterfell."

And then she was gone, her strides fast and quick. The words bothered Avariella for multiple reasons. Firstly, she implied that they were a team— that they were a _we._ Avariella did not know how she felt about the Queen except for her natural distaste for the name she bore but she knew that she did not consider them a _we_. Secondly, the mere thought of _her_ being happy _there_ made her want to laugh. Avariella happy in Winterfell? No. Mayhap's she would be content with her husband, but happy? No. Never. And then finally, the way the Queen had worded it, she made it sound as though _she_ were looking for happiness that _she_ did not have here.

Avariella made her way to the gate with a huff, trying— and failing— to banish all thoughts of the Queen out of her mind. When she eventually exited the east castle gate the weight that was suddenly lifted off her shoulders was so substantial she nearly felt like a feather floating in the wind. _Goodness,_ she thought, _I may face an early death._ When she eventually reached the small pool, she simply lay down on her cloak, staring up at the sky, which was a clear blue canvas with a bright yellow sun. She sighed peacefully, her limbs relaxing at her sides. This was her home. Her home was clear blue skies and bright yellow suns and cold pools of water and the sound of the Trident trickling down under her feet. She was not made for the North and it's grey skies and bitter winds and towering snow storms. She was a Southerner through and through. She was already a dead flower here in the South, in the North she would simply fall over and be stepped on repeatedly, like a weed.

 _Avos,_ her mind whispered, _come back to me. I don't know what to do._ The wind began to pick up, flattering through her hair as though her brother were answering her through the tree's. _That kind of thinking is folly,_ she thought, turning onto her side, _your brother is dead._ She closed her eyes and thought of Roslin, of how she had been gone only two nights. "Dear gods," she whispered, "how did they make our lives hell so quickly?" At the thought of Roslin, her mind turned to the argument they had about this place. Her lips twisted up into a bitter smile as she cast a glance around the serene spot and nearly laughed at the thought of this place being haunted by 'bad spirits'. Still. she knew her half- sister meant well.

* * *

She had been twelve when the rumours had begun to spread around the Twins. She hadn't caught word of them before Avos had told her, red faced and angry. The rumour was that she was to be married to one of her father's banner men. Avariella remembered how she had paled so considerably she was the colour of snow. The man in question was a old man who was friends with her father, nearing sixty and had already gone through three wives and had a handful of heirs. The thought of her marrying someone so old— the thought of her father marrying her to someone so vulgar had been so horrible she had nearly collapsed onto the ground.

Avariella had hid from her father and the Lord, always making sure she was never in the same room as them. _I have not bled yet,_ she used to say when she visited the Sept and prayed, _Please, do not make me marry him. Please._ She went to the Sept twice every day for a fortnight, with Avos accompanying her as well. Olyvar and Roslin had barely managed to look her in the eye they were so repulsed with the idea of her marrying him. The days continued like that until—

Until.

The lord was leaving the next day, and her and Avos had decided to go to the small lake. They had been young and filled with excitement as they made their way there, eager to swim under the hot sun. Until they had reached the small lake. It had been the first time Avariella and Avos had seen a dead body, and she would never forget it.

They hadn't seen it at first or at least Avariella hadn't, until she had seen the look of horror on Avos's face. He had told her to look away as he moved closer to the water but she didn't. The man was on his back in the water, with crows picking at his eyes and at his open mouth. The Maester said it was his heart that took him. Avariella and Avos had never gone back there together or at all.

And Avariella had never forgotten the guilt that hit her since.

* * *

When Avariella eventually made her way back to the East castle the sun was still in the sky. She knew better than to stay there until sunset, when the rapers and thieves came lurking about. It had been a miracle she had never been attacked during the day despite the closeness of which the small lake was to the Twins.

Fortunately enough, her whole body had dried from when she had swam a few hours before so she was not overtly eager to go change her clothes. When she made her way around the ground level she was suddenly overcome with the sound of someone crying. She sped up her strides at the familiar sound, suddenly consumed with worry. "Shirei!" she called out loudly, the sobs growing louder. She had just turned the corner when Shirei rammed into her stomach, wrapping her arms around her waist tightly.

"Shirei what is it?" she asked worriedly, "What's wrong—"

"Avariella!" Olyvar called out, looking slightly breathless. Avariella frowned at him as she put her hands on Shirei's head, and began stroking her hair in an attempt to calm her down. "What—"

"You missed the big announcement father and the King just made," Olyvar interrupted shortly, his eyes large and filled with shock, as though he himself had not quite processed what had happened. "You will be leaving within a fortnight," he informed her, blinking rapidly. Avariella watched him carefully, knowing he wasn't finished. "And?" she prompted, her heart thumping quickly in her chest. Olyvar swallowed loudly and looked down at the ground beneath them, "And Shirei has been betrothed to Lewys Piper, a boy of ten and four and a squire. She will leave for Pinkmaiden Castle within a moon's turn."

Avariella let out a tired gasp, her shoulders hunching up as defeat and tiredness flooded through her. _Dear gods,_ she thought, _haven't you done enough?_ She began to pull at Shirei's arms so that she could crouch down and face her. Shirei's face was wet with tears and her eyes were as red as blood due to her crying. "Shirei," she said, grasping onto her shoulder's tightly, "I need you to stop crying." Shirei hiccupped and tried to nod, but another sob broke through her lips. "Shh, Shirei, you have to stop crying. You are almost a woman grown and you are so strong. Stronger than I could ever be, alright?" The tears which were once streaming down her face furiously had now begun to slow. "That's it," Avariella whispered, offering her little half-sister a small smile, "You're strong Shirei. No man is worth your tears." Shirei hiccupped quietly, and wiped at her eyes. "Remember our words," Avariella told her passionately, "We will always have each other Shirei. You will write to me and Roslin and we shall write back."

"What if I never see you again?" Shirei asked, her voice but a mere whisper. She didn't ask about Roslin. Roslin was still in the Riverrlands, while Avariella would go to the North. The North where so very few people ventured or came down South. "You will," Avariella whispered fiercely, hugging her tightly, "You will," she whispered into her hair.

She hoped she would be able to keep her promise.

 **A/N Alright guys, I have to admit, I planned on this chapter having more content but I decided to end it there. I hope you all enjoyed this and that it was worth the wait. Sorry about that guys, it's just I was busy with my other story — which is almost done— and I'm eager to finish it by the end of this week and yeah. Sorry, I know it's a shitty excuse. Thank you to all those who have supported this story, it means so much to me. I hope you all enjoyed this! Tell me your thoughts! Until next time,**

 **Fionakevin073**


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Shirei," she whispered, unwrapping her arms from around her, and rose to her full height. Avariella and Olyvar shared a look of distress before Avariella urged Shirei, "Go back to your chambers, Shirei and clean yourself up." Shirei looked up at her, and nodded limply, wiping at her eyes before slowly walking away from them in the direction of her chambers. Avariella waited impatiently for the sound of her footfalls growing farther and farther away from them before whispering angrily to Olyvar, "How in the seven hells did this happen?"

Olyvar winced at the anger on her face, before replying calmly, "You remember that the King and father were in a meeting in the great hall before you left, correct?" Avariella nodded, an expression of impatience etched out on her features before it was overtaken by one of annoyance and shock, "Olyvar, are you saying that in the course of a few hours the King managed to convince our lord father to send Shirei off to Pinkmaiden castle? And with a betrothal? Betrothal pacts take time to forge, they never would have been able to send a raven all the way to Lord Piper _and_ receive a response within the same day. Pink maiden castle is all the way near the border of the Westerlands, if I remember correctly. That simply is not possible. . ." she drifted off for a few moments before her eyes widened with realisation, "that means that the betrothal is not official yet—"

"Avariella the King announced it," Olyvar interrupted, an expression of tiredness appearing on his features, "Which means that _it is_ official, even if the formal negotiations have not been made. When a King demands that a betrothal be made, you do it." Avariella felt anger boil within her at is words, and resisted the urge to pound her hands against the wall in her fury. "Lord Edmure is said to be close friends with Lewys Piper elder brother, mayhap's he may have mentioned it before he and Roslin made their way to Riverrun."

"Mayhap's," Avariella agreed reluctantly, though the anger on her face did not fade, and instead an expression of annoyance fluttered onto her face, "We do not know these people, Olyvar. They could be murderer's and rapists, hells the boy may be a monster—"

"He is only a boy, Avariella—"

"So was King Joffery," Avariella reminded him, her hazel eyes darkening at the thought of sending Shirei to someone like _him._ And it was all the Kings fault. Or her father's for agreeing to the match, but then the thought of leaving Shirei _here,_ with people like Ser Trent and their bastard brother Black Walder for company. . .she nearly shuddered at the thought. "The Lannister boy was a king," Olyvar said, his eyes boring into hers. "Yes and looked what happened to him," she replied, washing hand over her face, where her cheeks had flushed red where her freckles were most prominent. She had heard varying accounts of what had happened to the boy king who turned out to be a bastard born of incest. Many whispered that the King in the North himself had chopped off his head at the Sept of Baelor, other's had whispered that the dragon queen had her dragons burn him alive in front of his mother. Avariella did not know, and she did not care, content with the notion that at least some form had justice had been served for the people who had started the damn war; the war her brother had died fighting to end. And now she was going to have to live in the North at Winterfell until she found a suitable match because her father wished to punish her—

Avariella froze where she stood, a look of unspeakable terror and disgust creeping onto her face. "What is it?" Olyvar asked, looking worried, "Avariella what—" He stopped when she raised a hand to halt his words. "Olyvar," she breathed, her eyes wide, "do you think that—that— that father is sending me to the North not only for punishment? Do you think he also expects me to—" her throat tightened with disgust at the thought, and the notion repulsed her so terribly that she could barely speak. Olyvar looked down at his feet with a gentle look in his eye as he nodded, and admitted quietly, "The thought has crossed my mind." He then sent a cautious look both ways, ever aware that they were standing in the middle of a corridor. Avariella blanched at his meaning, and snapped angrily, "Does father truly expect for me to whore myself for—"

"Avariella!" Olyvar exclaimed, his eyes widening, "Watch your tongue—"

She sent him an incredulous look, and replied loudly, "You are worried about me having to 'watch my tongue' and not about me having to—" she broke off the sentence, a look of complete and utter fury both darkening and reddening her features. She paced up and down the corridor, biting down on her lower lip. "This doesn't— it doesn't have to happen. He is an honourable man he would not lay with another, he loves his wife—"

"How could father ask me to do this?" she whispered to herself, stopping her pacing and with one last look at Olyvar, she took down the hall, her steps quick and unrelenting. _He expects me to whore myself around for that blasted man,_ she thought, _maybe bare him a bastard or two._ She could feel bile rise in her throat as she stalked through the corridors, and she wished more than anything that she did not have to go. But the sinking feeling in her heart told her that it did not matter what she wanted— it was not in her control. Nothing ever was, and she would be dragged to the North kicking and screaming if need be. Avariellas' mind ran wild with thoughts that nearly drove her to become ill, but she managed to quell down the urge as she absentmindedly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she walked.

For a small, brief moment—one that caused her stomach to churn— she wondered whether or not her future husband would expect her to. . . _entice_ the king into her bed, and the mere thought of it made her shudder. She paused at long last, and leaned against a stone wall, her cheeks flushed from her rapid strides. _Damn them all,_ she thought bitterly, but quickly forced all of her emotions off her face once she realised that the hallway she had stopped it was occupied by numerous servants and family members shuffling through, who had all stopped to stare at her. She bit back a scowl as she sent them all a look of venom, and cursed herself for showing such great emotion in front of all of them. Granted, she had had a few more emotional episodes in the past previous days, but somehow this was different, and the feeling unnerved her. Avariella quickly moved out of the hall, clasping her hands together tightly.

She would be leaving one nightmare for another it would seem.

* * *

It was only a matter of time before she caught sight of the King.

Avariella knew that. She wasn't a fool. But the longer she could prolong being in his or _any_ of his close parties presence, the better. Olyvar had told her that Shirei would be leaving within a moon's time, and her within a fortnight. Typically, as Avariella discovered, when a _young maiden_ such as herself was leaving home that required her to have new dresses made. Apparently, her father decided that now was the time to waste gold on having dresses made.

Avariella would have spat in his face when he told her, if it were not for Shirei receiving new dresses too.

"Lift your arms dear," the seamstress commanded Avariella, and she did so wordlessly, biting down on her lip in order to silence her annoyance. She caught eye of Shirei across the room, who was looking up at her with a conflicted expression. Avariella smiled at her softly, and attempting to cheer Shirei up. Shirei smiled back for a fleeting moment, before the smile slid off her face within moments. Avariella averted her eyes from hers and stared at the closed doors of her chambers, wishing she was anywhere but there. It had been two days since the announcement had been made, and in those two days Avariella could already see how bare the room was slowly becoming. The stack of books on the wooden desk was gone; the cloak she wore when she went swimming was no longer draped across her chair and numerous chests— both opened and unopened— were laying there near the back of the room.

It was a painful reminder of the inevitable ending to her situation, and it made her want to throw herself into the Green Fork. She caught Shirei's eye once more but quickly glanced down at the seamstress, who was biting on her lip as she inspected her dress. The woman was old, with blotchy skin and greying hair, but her fingers were quick and nimble as she made the necessary adjustments. "I'll need to see if I have some warm furs to make for you," the seamstress told her, moving away from her much to Avariella's relief. She let her arms sink down to her sides and glanced down at herself, shifting uncomfortably at the tightened bodice that made chest look larger than it was. Avariella was not particularly well endowed, but the adjusted hem line made it seem so.

"Is it necessary for the bodice to be so tightened?" she asked, watching the seamstress. The lady— what was her name? Wyla?— eyed her for a moment, before snorting loudly. "I've been advised to make you look as desirable as possible my lady," the seamstress muttered, not looking at her.

"I thought the Northerners didn't care about appearances Avariella," Shirei commented, and Avariella froze, unable to think of a response fast enough. The seamstress seemed to realise that, and quickly quipped back, "Every man wants his wife to look desirable, even a Northerner."

A troubled look appeared on Shirei's face, and Avariella saw the internal doubt and insecurity her sister felt in her eyes. She finds herself moving towards Shirei before she can stop herself, and she ignores the seamstress's protests as she crouches in front of her. "What is it?" she questions Shirei, her hazel eyes gently urging her sister to talk.

"I'm not beautiful Ava," Shirei whispers, biting down on her lower lip, "Not like you or Roslin. I never have been, and what if my betrothed does not find me desirable or beautiful?" Avariella stares at her for a moment, before offering Shirei her hand. She watches her hesitate before taking it, and she guides Shirei towards the mirror, and positions Shirei in front of her, so that her back is to Avariella's stomach. She can hear the seamstress exit the room as she mumbles something about more needles, but she does't bother to look away from their reflection.

"Shirei," she whispers eventually, once she managed to find the words she needed to say to express what she felt, "Being beautiful isn't only something that you can be described as being, you can also _be_ beautiful yourself." Shirei frowns at her in the mirror, and says, "That doesn't make any sense Avariella." Avariella shakes her head slightly and grasps onto Shirei's shoulders, her eyes a mixture of fierceness and gentleness. "Shirei, you have the kindest and most forgiving nature of any person who I have ever met. You see the best in everyone, and you light up the room with your joy, and that makes you the most beautiful woman in the whole of the Riverlands. Don't ever doubt that you are a beautiful person Shirei, because you are. Don't ever doubt that."

"Thank you Avariella," Shirei whispered, swiping at her eyes.

Avariella merely felt her lips twitch upwards in response.

* * *

That is how the next few days pass dress fittings and packing. She goes to the library empty-handed and leaves with a stack of books that tower over her, threatening to topple over. (Lady Catelyn looks for her on this outing, but Avariella hides behind one of the bookcases. She doesn't want to see or talk to any of them. She can't— for fear of losing her mind if she does).

And so that is how it goes she dodges and runs and hides away from all of them as slowly slowly, her room becomes more and more bare and the pile of chests begin to increase. And she goes through all of this numb— as though she can't believe it's happening. And then the days slowly, slowly slip away, and it's with a jolt in the dead of the night that Avariella realises that she's about to leave the next morning.

* * *

Avariella makes her way to the lake for the final time the next morning, and this time she does not even take Max with her. It is still quiet out as she walks along the path, the light from the rising sun fluttering through her hair. Her pace is gradual and her gaze is lingering as she makes her way there, but she is quiet all the while. Her heart is a study thrum in her chest, and she closes her eyes as she walks, simply taking in the feeling of her feet on the ground below, of the distant sound of the Green Fork echoing in her ears, of the distinct smell that she could never quite describe.

Avariella is glad that she's alone, she is truly, but then she reaches the lake and she stands there silently, an unreadable expression on her face. But then the longer she stared, the lonelier she felt, and her insides began to wilt under all weight of emotion that was suddenly thrust onto her. She thought of Shirei and Olyvar, both of whom were still in their beds and a hint of smile began to play on her lips as she whirled around and began to hurry back to the castle, excitement pounding through her veins.

"Shirei," she murmured, shaking her younger sister's shoulder, "Wake up, come on Shirei," she whispered, "We have to go." Shirei looked up at her from where her face was buried in her pillow, and groaned. "Ava—"

"Shh," Avariella whispered, a small smile playing on her lips, "We're going to go swimming Shirei, be ready by the time I get back, okay? I'm going to go get Olyvar and some food alright?"

"What?" Shirei asked, rubbing her eyes tiredly as she propped herself up on her elbows, her dark hair spilling down her back.

"Get ready for swimming," Avariella repeated, a smile breaking out on her face as she moved away from Shirei and towards the door. "Ava—"

"Get ready Shirei," she called out behind her, opening and then closing the door quickly. She made her way through the hallway and down to the kitchens, and she could see the people she passed by glance at her in surprise, no doubt unnerved by her cheerfulness considering—

 _No,_ she thought, shoving the thought back into the depths of her mind, _don't you dare._ She shook her head slightly and moved forward but stopped in her steps once she caught sight of Arra. "Arra!" she called out, watching her handmaiden rear back in surprise. Avariella strode towards her quickly, smoothing out the front of her cloak as she spoke, "I need you to prepare a basket of food for me, Olyvar and Shirei from the kitchens. Make sure to provide a few towels, there must be a few more in my chambers, if not, search somewhere else. I need to go find Olyvar so I would like for the basket to be prepared by the time all of us come down—" Avariella stopped her rant once she noticed the wide-eyed gaze Arra was directing her way. She felt her cheeks flush and she shifted awkwardly under her unblinking stare.

"So, if you may please get that done that would be lovely," she murmured, before brushing past Arra quickly, her face deepening into a deeper shade of red.

"My lady," Arra called out, making Avariella stop in her steps. She resisted the urge to wince, and attempted to smooth her reddening features before turning to face her.

"Yes?" Avariella uttered, looking at anywhere but her.

"Would you like for me to pack a book for you as well?" Arra asked, a genuine smile appearing on her lips.

Avariella resisted the urge to gape at her, but as she stared at Arra silently, a gradual change began in her chest. Her throat began to dry up due to the sudden rawness forming in her chest and suddenly all she wanted to do was run away and curl up into a ball. "Yes," she said finally, once the rawness had subsided, "That would be loving."

And then with a flash of a sad smile in her direction, Avariella walked in the direction of Olyvar's chamber. Her brother's chamber hallway stinks of ale and sweat when she makes her way down it, and she wrinkles her nose in distaste as the odour lingers under her nose. She hasn't been to Olyvar's chamber in over a year, and so it takes her a moment to remember which one it was. She rapped her knuckles on the door, and waited impatiently for Olyvar to open the door.

"Olyvar!" She called out, knocking on the door again, "May you please open the door?" Silence.

Avariella sighed loudly and removed her hand from the door, her jaw tightening in frustration. She was just about to turn away when the door swung open, revealing a slightly disheveled Olyvar behind it. "Avariella?" he asked confusedly, rubbing at his eyes tiredly, "What are you—"

"Get ready," Avariella interrupted, staring at him with a slightly amused expression as she noticed the scratch marks on his bare chest, that were undoubtedly caused by a female. "Ready?" Olyvar questioned, gaping at her, not yet noticing her amusement at his current state, "For what?"

"Swimming," she replied shortly, "I hardly think that we will be able to in the North, and I figured that you may appreciate the opportunity." Olyvar nodded silently, wiping a hand across his face as he leaned his other hand against the door. "I'll meet you near the gate," Avariella told him but she couldn't resist adding, "You may want to cover the damage one of your _companions_ left you, Olyvar. Shirei will be joining us."

She cackled loudly at the startled look on his face, and made her way out of the hallway, ignoring Olyvar's splutters of complaint.

"Just get dressed quickly!" she calls out over her shoulder, shaking her head in amusement.

* * *

Avariella leaves Shirei with the basket of food by the gate to wait for Olyvar as she makes her way to the kennels to fetch Max. The thought of seeing her beloved companion makes her smile, but then the dark thoughts and emotions she shoved to the back of her mind begin to creep back to the surface as she remembers that in a few short hours she will have to—

 _Don't,_ she tells herself, sighing loudly as she groans inwardly, her strides quickening. Avariella nearly topples over with relief once she catches sight of the kennels, her heart leaping in her chest. _Almost there, almost there,_ she inwardly chants, and by the time she nears the kennels she is almost jogging. She can hear Max begin to bark excitedly once he realises that it's her, and the sound makes her lips twitch up into a smile. Willis looks at her with an impassive expression, and he wordlessly moves to get Max for her. She waits by the door patiently, and jumps when she feels Max nudging into her stomach with his face.

"Down boy," she murmurs, petting him gently as she catches Willis's eye. "Thank you," she says politely, once Max has calmed down. "T'was not a problem, milady," he tells her. Avariella is surprised when she catches a glint of sadness in his eyes as he stares at her, shifting awkwardly under her gaze. "You'll take care of him?" she asks quietly, ignoring Max's excited whimpers. Willis merely nods. She returns the nod wordlessly, her heart heavy in her chest as she makes her way out of the kennels with Max by her side.

Shirei squeals excitedly when she catches sight of Max, and Avariella lets him run over to her and ignores the concerned glance Olyvar sends her way. "Let's go," Avariella murmurs, and she walks next to Olyvar, allowing Shirei and Max to bound ahead. "You seem pensive," Olyvar murmured beside her, his strides slow and deliberate compared to her slightly faster ones. "Don't I always?' she quipped back, a forced smile appearing on her face as they looked at each other.

"Ava—"

"Don't," she said sharply, a sad glint lingering in her hazel eyes, "Not now." Her gaze shifted ahead to look at Shirei, and she smiled faintly at the sound of her giggling at Max. Without another word to Olyvar, Avariella practically skipped over to Shirei and Max, the basket bouncing in her arms.

It's a good day.

The best day Avariella has had ever since her brother died. This is surprising to her, all things considering, but the thought does nothing to lessen how content she feels. Avariella lays out the blanket on the grass near the small lake, right under the unflinching sun. She sets the basket down beside her, and watches happily as Olyvar pushes Shirei into the water, and she even laughs at the sight of her sister's startled face. Luckily, Olyvar had pushed her into the shallower side as Shirei can not swim properly. Max barks loudly as they all laugh happily, and Avariella calls out to him, and let him lay his head in her lap as he props down next to her, lying on her discarded cloak.

She jumps into the water after they both nag at her incessantly, and she delights in the way they shy away from the large splash her body creates when she jumps in. Her and Olyvar teach Shirei how to float in the shallow end, and Avariella relishes in the feeling of her gown clinging tightly to her body like a second layer of skin, and her curls her toes deeper into the muddy bottom below her. Shirei flails and panics for a while, but eventually she manages to float on her own, and she throws herself at Avariella, hugging her tightly as she squeals in excitement. Olyvar catches her eye over Shirei's shoulder, and they smile at each other fondly.

It's easy to forget the gaping holes that are difficult to ignore in moments such as those. Avariella remembers when it was only her, Olyvar, Roslin and Avos coming to this place before the man was found in the lake, and the memories make her heart clench. It was different, and somehow all the same at once. There's a moment when they're all sitting on the blanket about to eat and she's listening to Shirei ramble as she takes out some grapes when she notices the distant look in Olyvar's eye.

It's then she realises that maybe Olyvar notices how different it is too, and her heart softens ever so softly at the realisation. Max falls into the water after they finish eating, and they laugh themselves silly as he quickly paddles over to the other side and clambers out. He shakes himself violently when he reaches them, almost as if in retaliation as water splatters all over them. Eventually, Avariella ends up lying on her back with Shirei's head on her stomach, Max lying on her feet and Olyvar's legs on top of her own. She runs her fingers through Shirei's damp hair, and listens carefully as Shirei begins to snore quietly, nuzzling her head deeper into Avariella's stomach.

"Avariella," Olyvar whispers, breaking the silence, "Thank you for today."

There's a moment of silence before he speaks again.

"We have to go back," he murmurs, his voice heavy with emotion. Regret, compassion, happiness, relaxation. . . Avariella can't decipher them all.

"Not yet," she whispers eventually, and she shifts slightly, and she wiggles her fingers until he places his hand in her's.

Avariella's eyes drift shut, and she tries to shove down the turmoil within her but her mind can't help but whisper tauntingly _his hand is too callused, too rough— where is the brother whose hand was just the same as your own?_

They return to the Twins before the sun begins to set, and the air between them is thick and heavy with sadness as the approach the castle. Max seems to be affected by the change in tone as he walks limply beside her, his head low. Shirei is quiet as they walk, and an unreadable expression too serious for a child her age appears on her features. Neither Avariella or Olyvar attempt to comfort her.

"I'll take care of Max before I go," Shirei tells her, once they reach the gates. Avariella stares down at her in surprise, but Shirei merely hugs her and then Olyvar, before hurrying up into the castle, leaving the two of them to stare after her. "She'll be okay when we're gone," Olyvar murmured beside her, his voice laced with a hint of proudness. Avariella didn't respond, and simply sighed softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before beginning to walk in direction of the kennels. Olyvar followed her wordlessly, and they walked in silence for a while, with Max between them. Avariella could feel Olyvar refrain himself from talking; from asking her questions that she couldn't answer. She was grateful that he managed to keep his mouth shut. She couldn't handle his concern right now. Her insides felt too raw, too used.

 _Yes she will be,_ Avariella wanted to say, but somehow the words wouldn't come out. Slowly, they reached the kennels, and Avariella suddenly stopped in her tracks. She couldn't do it. All of a sudden, her heartbeat was ringing loudly in her ears as her breathing slowly but surely became heavier and faster. Max noticed the sudden change within her, and was nuzzling his face into her legs, whimpering every few moments when she failed to pet him. She bit down on her lower lip so hard she drew blood and stared determinedly at the kennel. _Just a few more steps,_ she thought, trying her best to ignore Max's whimpers.

"Come on boy," she murmured, her voice breaking as she fought to hold back her tears. She managed to reach the outside of the doorway with Max at her heels, Olyvar having stayed back a few paces to give her some space. Some time to say goodbye.

Hesitantly, Avariella crouched down in front of Max so that she was on her kneels and began to caress his fur lovingly. She remembered when Avos had placed him in her arms the day he was born, all of those years ago, and her heart breaks once she realises that she won't be there on his last day. "Hey Max,'" she whispers and she buries her head into his fur, clutching onto it tightly. She would normally wrinkle her nose at his smell, but now she embraces it; cherishes it even. She can feel his body tense as he begins to realise that she isn't saying goodbye until tomorrow but for forever, and he begins to whimper loudly. The sound breaks her heart and she can't bare to hear it any longer so she quickly stands up and swipes at her eyes, unable to look at him any longer.

Max begins to bark fervently now as Willis comes and begins to drag him away. Avariella stands there helplessly, and she can feel her bottom lip begin to tremble as she holds back her tears. Her hands curl into fists at her sides, and she is thankful that her nails were cut short because if they had been longer they would have sunken into her skin due to how tightly she was clenching her fists now. Avariella turns on her heel and begins to walk in the direction of Olyvar, her eyes placed firmly on the ground beneath her.

"Olyvar—"

She jumps at the sight of the King and his mother standing next to Olyvar, with Brienne of Tarth standing behind them. Their conversation stops at the sight of her, and Avariella resists the urge to flush under the critical gaze of Lady Catelyn, suddenly all too aware of her dishevelled appearance and her red rimmed eyes. Avariella can feel Olyvar's gaze boring into the side of her face but she doesn't look at him. Too busy grasping at the remainders of her dignity in order to force a greeting out of her mouth.

"Your grace, my lady," she utters, curtsying appropriately, tucking a strand of her wild red hair behind her ear, "What a surprise to see you both on this fine afternoon." She manages to keep a straight face as Max's howls begin to echo through the kennels and she bites down on her bottom lip tightly in order to hide the extent of her distress. It doesn't work.

"Are you alright, my lady?" The King asks, though his blue eyes do not reveal the thoughts behind it. Avariella shifts under his gaze and replies lowly, "Yes, I am, your grace, thank you for your concern." Avariella can feel her eyes begin to burn with tears and so she quickly dismisses herself from the conversation with a few words, "I hate to be rude your grace, my lady, but I must hurry back in order to get ready for the feast tonight." Her voice breaks at the end, and she quickly clears her throat, hating herself for the slight sign of weakness she allowed herself to show in front of them. "If you will both excuse me."

She doesn't wait for them to answer before she quickly hurries away, letting out a small gasp as she strides forward, eager to be within the confines of her chamber so that she be allowed to mourn without the watchful eyes of the King and Lady Catelyn on her back.

* * *

The final feast is filled with drunken fools and half hearted farewells but Avariella is itching to get away by the time the second hour hits. She stares at her father with barely concealed hatred, one that rivals the hatred she feels towards the King. _How sad it is,_ she thinks, _that a daughter is capable of hating her father so much._

There are duties she must fulfil however, and it is when no one is looking that she finally slips away.

There is one last goodbye she must make before she goes, and it is one that has been a relentless itch under her skin that scratched at her heart.

Avos.

This home— this wretched place she had called her home for the past seven and ten years was the last piece of her brother she had left. Avariella had always felt that as long as she stayed here, Avos would somehow still be a part of her, as though she was keeping a part of him alive somehow. And now she had to leave. Avariella hesitated outside the heavy oak door, and refused the urge to wrinkle her nose at the smell in the male corridor. Unlike her and her sisters, her brothers had more than one corridor dedicated to their chambers, due to there being a larger amount of boys than girls in the Frey house.

The chamber is empty and bare when she enters it, and the sound of the door closing is soft behind her but for some reason it echoes in her ears, and the air in the room is suddenly stifling. She stands there against the door and lets out a quiet sigh, rubbing a hand across her throat. Avariella stood there for a few moments, her heartbeat ringing in her ears. It took everything in her to take that first step, and once she had managed to do it she felt as though she were going to collapse.

The bed was still made, surprisingly, and she forced herself to walk towards it, and sat down on it with a quiet sigh. She traced the patterns of the quilt, and suddenly she felt so lost she wanted to cry. Avariella missed him; she missed her brother more than anything in the world and leaving her home, leaving _him_ was suddenly so unbearable she wanted to rip her heart out of her chest. She let out a haggard breath, her eyes prickling before she quickly wiped at her ears, and she was _so frustrated with herself_ she could feel her face turn red.

"I'm so sick of crying," she ground out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears. Avariella let her eyes wonder across the room, her heart curling up in her chest like a wounded animal. "I have no idea what I'm doing Avos," she said numbly, playing with her hands, "You would have wanted to go North with me and Olyvar, I know you would have. You always—" her voice broke and she quickly cleared her throat and continued, "You always talked about travelling— exploring the world and having stories of your own. Going to the North wouldn't be so bad if you were here Avos. You always had a way of making things seem more exciting then they actually were." Avariella gulped loudly, and stared at the bedpost instead of her hands. "I hate them Avos," she confessed quietly, "I hate the King, I hate his wife I hate his mother, his uncle—everyone. All of them. I've never been so full of hate before Avos. Not even Shirei or Olyvar is enough to quell it even remotely. But that isn't even the worse part. Being with them, everyday, _living_ with them, getting married to one of them— gods Avos it's like a nightmare I can't wake up from. I wonder if you liked any of them, any of the Northmen. Hells, I wonder if you met or heard of my future husband, whomever he may be. If you did, I hoped you liked him, you never really mentioned meeting any Northmen that you were fond of— or that you found memorable."

She stood up reluctantly, and slowly moved towards the door. "The worst part of all this is that I'll never hear about what you'll have to say about it. I'll never know how you would have reacted— at least, I'll never know for sure. And you'll never meet your future nieces or nephews and never be able to make fun of my betrothed and you'll never have a wife or children of your own and _they will._ Gods Avos the thought makes me sick." Avariella had reached the door by now, and she rested her palm against it as she glanced back towards the room one last time— the _last_ time. "I won't forget what they did Avos—I can't— _I won't._ I'll miss you my whole life. I love you—I miss you, I'll never forget you."

She pushed the door open gently, and whispered, "Goodbye."

And then she left, her heart shattering in her chest all the while, but her eyes were dry and her blood was on fire.

* * *

The sky was dark and cloudy when they left.

It was fitting from Avariella's perspective, as she stared up at the dark grey sky. The sun was battling with the clouds, trying it's best to shine through them, but ultimately failing. Avariella glanced away from the sky and was suddenly aware of her father still droning on about gods-knew- what. Her attention shifted from her father and her breath caught in her chest as she caught sight of the large army spread out over the hill, at the sight of all the banners and the men. She had seen the army when they had first come to the Twins, but she had been overcome with worry and sadness at Avos and Olyvar leaving that she didn't _fully_ realise how big it was. She was careful to hide her anxiousness.

Her hair fluttered with the breeze, and she laced her hands together in front of her, staring blankly ahead. Avariella was aware of Shirei standing there beside her, and could feel the trembles running through her body. Avariella gently placed a hand on her shoulder, and once her father had finally finished talking and the King began to thank him Avariella looked down at Shirei. Her face was ghostly pale, and her eyes were wide with sadness. Her expression made Avariella's heart stop, but she forced herself to look at the interaction between her father and the Kings party, as they all began to thank him. Avariella caught eye of the Queen, who looked as beautiful and as lost as she had since Avariella had met her. It made her insides bristle, and so she quickly glanced away, eager to be in a tolerant mood when they entered the carriage.

 _Half a month spent in a carriage with Lady Catelyn and the Queen,_ she thought, _oh how I can barely contain my joy!_

Olyvar must have guessed what she had been thinking because his lips twitched upwards in the corner of her eye. Avariella felt Shirei begin to calm under her hand, and she began to listen to what the King was saying.

"We thank you for your hospitality Lord Walder. I vow to uphold my promise to your family, Lord Walder and take care of your daughter as my ward until we find her a true and honest husband. . ."

She resisted the urge to walk up to him and slap him across the face. Avariella didn't have to wait longer for the King to finish with his speech, and once he finally had all of their gazes turned to her and Olyvar. _I'm not ready,_ Avariella thought, squeezing Shirei's shoulder tightly. _You never will be,_ a voice inside her whispered back, and so she planted a false smile on her face as she stared at her father, and moved to face Shirei so that she was standing in front of her.

"Write to me whenever you can," she told her, watching Shirei's eyes begin to water, "And to Roslin and to Olyvar. Be good, and be happy. Don't be afraid Shirei and don't cry," she said fiercely, grasping onto her shoulders. "I'll miss you," Avariella told her, and moved back a step but Shirei wouldn't let her go. She leapt forward and wrapped her arms around her waist, and began to sob into her middle.

"Don't go Ava!" Shirei whimpered loudly. Avariella was sure the King and his party could hear, "Please don't go!"

Avariella needed her to stop. She had to stop.

"Shirei," she said firmly, grasping onto her shoulders tightly in an attempt to get her off. "You have to get off now." But she wouldn't let go and Avariella couldn't find it in herself to make her—

"Come on Shirei," Arra said, ripping her away from Avariella and hugging her close to her body as she began to take her away, "We have to go." Avariella watched this happen with a numbness that scared her, and she didn't even realise that her hands were shaking until Olyvar stood next to her. "I'll go say goodbye to Shirei," he murmured, moving in their direction, "You go say goodbye to everyone else."

Avariella nodded dispassionately and moved to say goodbye to the rest of her family with insincere farewells. She wouldn't see any of them again; and she didn't care to. But throughout the process she felt a pair of eyes bore into the back of her head, but she didn't turn back to see who it was. When she reached her father she felt so tired and alone she wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear.

"Lord father," she said aloofly, staring at him with dead eyes, "Thank you for everything. I will miss you and pray for your good health. I give you my most sincerest thanks for providing me with this opportunity." The words were said tonelessly and without any affection, but her father didn't seem to care as he bent down to press a wet kiss to her cheek. Avariella resisted the urge to shudder in disgust. "Do not disappoint me," he whispered in her ear, before coughing loudly next to her face. All she did was stare at him in turn, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of thinking that she cared.

She took a step back and nodded but before she could turn away her father stopped her.

"Bring that wretched mutt here!" He commanded, and she watched with rising interest as two guards from the side brought in a chained Max, who began to bark at the sight of her. She didn't even realise that she moving forward until her hand was petting Max's head as a rush of affection flooded through her. "Hey, boy," she murmured, and turned to stare at her father, attempting to hide the shock behind her eyes. "Thank you, father," she said, and for once there was an actual note of sincerity in her voice. Avariella glanced at the King and his party out of the corner of her eye, and was unnerved to find most of them staring at her. "And you all as well, for allowing me to bring him. I will make sure he is not an inconvenience to any of you."

The King was about to reply before her father snorted and said, "Yes, yes, very touching you all must be getting along now." Olyvar had returned swiftly, and he caught her eye for a moment, a questioning look in his gaze before— She frowned at him, trying to decipher the glint of surprise and worry in his eyes as he stared at her. He glanced away, and that was when she knew that they had to leave. It took everything in her to move towards the carriage, and she watched it with a strange calmness that dulled any other emotion within her.

"Farewell," she murmured, and then she was helped into the carriage after the Queen and Lady Catelyn.

After the carriage had begun to move, it started to rain. Avariella shifted against the seat and tried her best to stifle a yawn, the echo of a dire wolfs howl ringing in her ears.

It would be a long journey to Winterfell.

 **A/N There is no apology in the world that encompasses how sorry I am for how long this took. Writer's block, school, and swim practices have been a bitch, and I AM finishing the story, don't worry. However, updates will no longer be once a week unfortunately. Sorry about that guys. Second of all, thank you all for everything. For your patience, and the reviews, and the favourites/follows. It means a lot. Please review, feedback is what drives an author to do better. I know this chapter seems kinda rushed, but I was just in such a hurry to get it ready for you all. Sorry about that. Tell me what you think! Thanks again!**

 **Until next time (whenever that may be),**

 **Fionakevin073**


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N Small warning, there is some triggering material mentioned in this chapter! I am so sorry this took so long guys, I planned on finishing this chapter in December but it was christmas and I was on holiday and then I went back to school and i have exams and stuff so I was swarmed with studying (heck, I still have one more exam but I just needed to finish this) and I am so sorry! I hope I can finish the next chapter in a shorter amount of time. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and thank you all for your support and understanding, it really means a lot to me! Please remember to review! Feedback is an authors greatest motivation. if any of you have any questions, feel free to PM me or ask them in the review section. Thanks again!**

 **Until next time,**

 **Fionakevin073**

Chapter 7

The struggle to bite down her hatred caused her heart to burn in her chest as she stared down at her hands, linking them together. The awkwardness that lingered in the tight space was enough to make all three of them clam up, but the Queen and Lady Catelyn were far too dignified to let their inner turmoil show. Avariella merely observed everything with a quiet aura, too tired and defeated to form words.

They had only been travelling for a few hours, but she felt as though it had been centuries. Her legs were crying out in agony; eager to be stretched. Her bladder felt as though it were about to burst, and yet her lips were chapped and her throat was dry. It had continued to rain consistently since they had left the Twins, and it showed no sign of stopping. She wondered for a brief moment what that meant, before quickly deciding she had no patience to decipher the Gods signs; she had long given up on their existence. The curtain was drawn over the window, and Avariella made no attempt to slide them away. The talk had died down between the two women sitting across from her, and Avariella glanced up at them quickly. The Queens' body was slanted slightly, her head leaning against the side of the carriage. Her eyes were firmly shut, her mouth a thin line, and yet she still managed to look beautiful. It made Avariella want to scowl, but for what reason she did not know.

 _You have a beautiful bridge._

She had not thought about the Queen's words for a long time, but for some unidentifiable reason they returned to her, like a quote she had memorised from a book she had not read for many years. She repeated the phrase in her head slowly, as though it were in some strange language she did not know, and found that perhaps the Queen was simply complimenting her home— _her old home._ The reminder made her flinch, and she saw the elder Stark frown at her, yet she did nothing to assure her of her peace of mind.

"Your sister seemed quite sad to see you go," Lady Catelyn commented, and it was then that Avariella noticed that she had begun stitching. The cloth in the elder woman's hand was of fine silk and the thread a brilliant grey, and Avariella could instantly tell that the Stark matriarch was skilled in the art of stitching.

"I was sad to leave her," she replied quietly, her voice dispassionate and withdrawn. Their eyes met for a moment, and the expression of understanding in the older female's eyes made her want to claw out her own.

"I left my home too," Lady Catelyn told her, almost as if she were trying to _comfort_ her, "Under very similar circumstances. I know it is not easy, the North is a very difficult place to adjust to but you will find your way Lady Avariella."

Avariella stiffened at her words, her spine straightening almost instantaneously. Her blood grew hotter, and her gaze colder, and her words were stiff and a hint of her bitterness shined through. "I wish things would have been different, that's all my lady. Thank you for your kind words." She almost slapped herself after the words had left her mouth, her mind growing wild with the possible repercussions. She did not wish for Catelyn Stark to believe she was bitter over having been unable to marry her son— or that she still had any desire to do so. Avariella's desire to become Robb Starks bride had died a very long time ago, and she cast a panicked look in the Queen's direction, thankful that her words had fallen on dead ears.

"Be glad that you have at least one of your brothers with you on this journey," is all the elder woman had to say in reply, and the words were both a warning and a reprimand. Hazel eyes met blue, one with a spark of unmistakable anger and the other with a sternness that demanded respect. Their gaze held for a while, before the widow sighed and returned to her stitching.

There was no more talking after that.

* * *

When they stopped— Avariella thanked the seven— she waited for the Queen and Lady Catelyn to be escorted out of the carriage before she practically ran out of the opened door, heedless of the hand a guard had held out to her in an offer of assistance. She called out a small apology over her shoulder, but walked straight ahead quickly, her mind a blur. Her legs felt weak, and ached badly, to the point she feared she would collapse. The air was cool, and she shivered instinctively, grabbing onto her elbows. She watched the soldiers begin to set up camp with a blank expression, eager to crawl into a tent and curl up into a ball.

She jumped when she felt a warm presence by her legs, but quickly relaxed once she realised it was Max burying his head into her legs. "Hey boy," she whispered, bending over to pet him gently. Relief flooded through her chest, making Avariella close her eyes tightly as her grip on his fur tightened. He panted loudly— and happily at the attention she was giving him, and she soon realised how chapped her lips were, and how dry her throat was. "Come Max," she commanded, rising to her full height, "Let's go find some water."

They wondered through the camp for a short while, ducking poles and skipping over muddy puddles. She eventually managed to grab ahold of some water, and thanked the woman who gave her a small wooden bowl for Max. The sun had begun to set, turning the sky into a mixture of blue, orange and purple hues. She admired it quietly, a soft expression of wonder in her eyes. Avariella wondered if sunsets would be like this in Winterfell. She had been told stories of the North, about willings and creatures of night, and the Wall that separated the seven kingdoms from the horrors behind it. Everything was a rumour. Avos and Olyvar had talked little about the Northerners in their letters, except for mentioning that the Northerners tended to stay together or be alone. Solemn folk, her Septa had once stated, always serious and stern, honour driving their every decision. The late Eddard Stark was said to have been the most honourable man to ever live in the seven kingdoms. Avariella pondered how it was possible for one man to be honourable and not make his eldest son— his heir— follow in his footsteps.

She stood there, wondering, unaware of the Frey knight approaching her.

"Ser Trent said you were beautiful but I dared not believe him," the man said, his voice husky as he slid next to her, standing alarmingly close for a man whose name she did not know. "I suggest you leave," she told him stonily, and Max instantly looked up from his bowl at her words, and began to growl. "Too bad that they're going to waste such fine Southern cunt on a Northman," he mused, stepping away from her. "You overstep your boundaries," she warned, her voice curt and her aura authoritative. Most of her father's men were like this; rude, arrogant, crass. She had long since learned to ignore them as best she could, and if it had not been for the. . . _incident_ with Ser Trent her attempts at ignoring them would have been successful.

"What will you do to stop me?" he taunted, and she could smell his foul breath from where she stood.

"She may not do anything," Olyvar warned from behind her, his voice as cold as a Northern winter, "But if you do not leave my sister alone this second I will run you through without a second thought, my father's soldier be damned." The lecherous man quickly nodded and hurried away, his bravado quickly forgotten. _Coward,_ her mind hissed, and Max curled himself around her legs, his warmth comforting her.

"What in the seven hells was that?" Olyvar questioned harshly, his eyes wide with fury. Avariella observed her brother with a carefully closed off exp ression, her jaw tightened. Olyvar somehow— thank the gods— did not know about what happened with Ser Trent, and she intended to keep it that way. "Nothing," she replied curtly, gently nudging Max to move so she could move herself, "Just one of father's men acting like father."

Olyvar eyed her suspiciously, his jaw tightening as he gripped the handle of his sword. "I should kill him right now I swear—"

"Olyvar if you were to kill every one of father's men— or any man at all who was as disgusting as him, there would be no men left in Westeros, or Essos for that matter." _Except your beloved Starks,_ she thinks darkly, but she doesn't say it. Her heart is still pounding in her chest so hard that she almost feels as though her chest is rattling. "You are no Saint either," she says lightly, in a poor attempt to brighten his mood. _He almost found out,_ her mind whispers, and the fear that comes with that realisation rocks her to her core. Avariella isn't sure _why_ him finding out scares her, but she vows in that moment to never try and find out.

There is a moment or two of silence before she can sense the anger in him begin to drain, and the tension in his broad shoulders slack away. "Come on," she says gently, mindful of Max below her, "You needed me for something?" Olyvar eyed her for a moment, as though he were trying to figure out something. "Yes," he said absently, "We have been invited to dine with Lady Catelyn this evening. The King and Queen may attend as well." Avariella halted in her steps, her expression incredulous. "Oh dear gods," she murmured, "We must attend now?" Olyvar rolled his eyes at her tone, though a small smile appeared on his lips.

"You are their ward you know," Olyvar murmured as he steered them in the direction of the tent, "You will be expected to be in their presence daily." Avariella forced herself not to shudder at the grim reality, and instead made herself reply. "I know," she muttered, "So do you." She felt rather petulant saying it, as though she were a mere child and not a woman about to be sent off to choose a husband- or be assessed by greedy lustful men like a lamb heading to be slaughtered. "Avariella," his voice was soft, "You know that I wouldn't let them. . ." he didn't have to say it for her to understand his meaning. She stared up into his eyes and could feel herself withdraw from his comfort, from his love. It still felt wrong to accept it. Unnatural. So instead of speaking she simply nodded, and stayed quiet for the rest of the walk, mindful not to allow Max to wonder off too far.

They reached the tent far too soon for Avariella's liking, and they waited patiently for the guards to finish announcing their arrival inside the tent. The guards had offered to keep an eye on Max before they had entered the tent, and so Avariella commanded him to keep close the tent, fearful that he would run off into the woods and be eaten by some wild beast. Once the guards returned, they both entered the tent, their posture straight. Avariella always felt the need to be more _proper_ in the eldest Starks presence, despite her constant claims of not caring what the Starks thought about her. She genuinely does not care for the Stark's, or what they think of her, but there is this almost instant reaction that Lady Catelyn has not only on her, but on everyone around her that makes them act more proper, more formal. Avariella is not immune to the effect, and it bothers her more than she wishes to admit as she stands in front of the person in question.

"Welcome," the red headed woman uttered cooly, her blue eyes stern. "Thank you for having us," Avariella replied evenly, taking in the table set in front of her. "Please sit," Lady Catelyn advised from where she sat at the head of the table. Avariella sat a close distance away from the elder woman, close enough to not be considered rude for sitting too far away, but far enough that she wasn't sitting directly next to the woman. The silence was thick and awkward, and she could feel it fastening around her throat like a rope. Her and Olyvar caught each others gaze from where they sat across from each other, and they both waited awkwardly for the matriarch to speak. She felt like a deer caught by a hunting party. "I hope you both enjoy Winterfell," Lady Catelyn eventually said, and she lifted up her utensils, prompting Olyvar and Avariella to do the same. "I'm sure we will, my lady," Olyvar replied formally—genuinely. Not with Avariella's forced sincerity. It made her want to cry to the heavens and ask why her elder half-brother was such a forgiving person for a man.

Avariella was suddenly aware of the three vacant chairs, and before she could voice her thoughts Lady Catelyn seemingly read her mind, "My uncle shall be joining us shortly, and the Queen is expected to do so. His grace may not be attending unfortunately, and has instructed me to carry on with our dinner without him." It struck Avariella as odd to begin eating without the Queen or the Blackfish present but just as she thought it the flap opened, revealing the Blackfish. Avariella watched with an attentive expression as he clumsily apologised for his lateness and sat down in the seat beside Olyvar, his eyes meeting hers. She glanced away after a beat, to look at Lady Catelyn, whose face had tightened with disapproval. "Don't look at me like that Cat," the Blackfish stated, grabbing his utensils, "Use that expression on your son." The Lady didn't reply except for a small sound at the back of her throat, and instead began to eat the food in front of her on her plate, prompting the rest of them to do the same.

"Olyvar," the Blackfish barked, after he had finished swallowing his first mouthful ( Ser Brynden Tully may possess many qualities, but bad table manners was not one of them) "You fought in the war, correct? And wish to be knighted?" Avariella watched her elder half brother carefully, and was mindful to keep her pleased expression at bay when Olyvar showed no sign of being startled at the sudden questioning from the intimidating man. "Yes," he replied evenly, "When the appropriate time arises and the King is willing to do so."

"Ahh," the Blackfish uttered, as though he had just remembered something, and his face darkened considerably at the reminder, "We will be spending some months rebuilding Winterfell since the Greyjoy's destroyed it." Avariella may not have been looking at Lady Catelyn, but she could feel her stiffen from where she sat. The word Greyjoy was said with such disdain that Shirei would have winced had she been here. Avariella could not recall what exactly had occurred to the Greyjoys during the war, after the Dragon Queen had arrived in Westeros. She had heard various tales from drunken mouths sitting in the dining room, but the gist she got was that the Greyjoy house had been destroyed, the island burnt to a crisp. Granted, she knew it was well deserved. Avariella recalled the venomous words Avos had written down in his letters when the topic of the Greyjoys arose, and even Olyvar had seemed to despise them. It was at that moment that she realised that the conversation had continued, and that they were all now waiting for her to a respond to a question she had not heard.

"Pardon?" she questioned gently, forcing a small apologetic smile onto her face, "I was caught up in my thoughts." There was a moment before Lady Catelyn spoke, "I merely commented that my daughter Sansa will be excited to have a girl close to her age to talk to once we arrive at Winterfell." Avariella struggled to hide her surprise and instead commented, "I was not aware that Lady Sansa was at Winterfell, my lady." She heard the two men resume their conversation again, and tried not to be distracted by it. "Sansa and Lord Tyrion have been keeping a careful eye on the reconstruction of Winterfell, but progress has been slow as his grace wishes to help with the construction. My daughter Arya travelled to the Wall a moon ago, I assume she will be returning a few weeks after we return, my lady. My son Rickon remained at Winterfell as well." She made no mention of her son Bran, and Avariella didn't pursue the topic, though she noticed how the lines on Lady Catelyn's face had deepened, and knew in that moment that she was thinking of her second youngest son. An emotion very akin to sympathy grew within her breast as she gazed at the blue eyed woman, and she let it nestle in her chest for a few very short moments before banishing it away.

"How long would the construction take?" she asked, for the first time sincerely wanting to engage in a conversation with the two Tully's. The Blackfish must have heard her question because he answered, "About two moons. Depending on when that blasted Northern winter arrives, which the Maester's say should be soon." Avariella nearly shivered at the thought. She had heard mere rumours and stories about true Northern Winters, and from what she gathered, they were far from a pleasant experience. Avos had used to fabricate dark, intricate tales of the coldest Winters featuring fictional heroes that he created in his mind to tell Shirei at night. But they had all gathered ( they meaning her, Olyvar, Shirei and Roslin) in one of their chambers and listened to his voice enchant them, terrify them. Her heart tugged at the thought of her twin, and she could feel the darkness that had clouded her for so long wrap her in it's arms.

The Blackfish eyed her for a moment, his blue eyes narrowing as he did so. She looked back at him unflinchingly, determined to not seem weak. Avariella nearly smiled with satisfaction when he looked away first, and the conversation continued from there. She kept quiet for the most part, only contributing to the talk when someone asked her a question, which was rare. They all seemed to sense her withdrawal from the conversation and made no attempt to include her once more, much to her relief. The evening continued as such until their plates eventually emptied and the other people in the room had a cup or two of wine, while Avariella merely took rare sips from her goblet. Avariella was just about to excuse herself when the flap of the tent was pushed aside, revealing a bloody Queen behind it. It wasn't her blood, Avariella was sure of that, but the sleeves of her dressed were stained and there were smudges of blood on the side of her cheeks, as though she had wiped her hands on them. _So she is still a healer,_ Avariella noted, carefully glancing towards Lady Catelyn, whose eyes had narrowed with disapproval. It struck her then that Lady Catelyn hated her daughter in law, or at the very least strongly disapproved of her.

"Forgive me," the Queen said, looking somewhat flustered under their gaze, "I lost of track of time. The med bay is still rather swarmed." It took a moment of thought for her to gather a response and before she could stop herself the words flew out of her mouth, "There is nothing to forgive you for, your grace. Thank you for the splendid meal." The words felt forced and bizarre exiting her mouth, but she stomached the discomfort, eager to disappear to wherever she was sleeping. The tension in the room had begun to build to an uncomfortable level, one which she had not come across since she had first voiced her hatred to the Stark on his first day at the Twins. She caught Olyvar's eye, and he nodded indirectly, seemingly sharing her willingness to leave. She turned to Lady Catelyn with a forced smile and issued a thank you and a farewell to both her and the Blackfish, with Olyvar quickly adding his own. Avariella was unable to read Lady Catelyn, and found herself unaccustomed to the feeling of having no clue as to what another was thinking. She prided herself on being an observant person, always having the ability to guess what a person was thinking or _feeling_ based on their actions, their postures, their small little ticks. But Lady Catelyn was unbreakable; not letting anything in, and not letting anything out.

Avariella curtsied in front of the Queen on her way out and uttered some words that her brain deemed adequate enough to excuse her for the night. The motion struck her as rather odd; Avariella may have dealt with filthy and crude people for most of her life, especially her father, but they had always been people that had come from _her_ home. Whenever she had encountered someone from another part of Westeros that had not come from the Twins —and was of considerable noble standing— they had always looked proper and clean, worthy of the title of a noble. She had always been taught that a Queen— and a Lady— was always supposed to be well kept, and pretty at all times. Not that she was a model of that herself, but it nearly amused her when she came to the realisation that the first Queen she had ever met lacked the very image that a Queen was supposed to have. She had to purse her lips to stop herself from laughing aloud, and the moment she exited the tent with Olyvar at her heels a laugh escaped her lips.

It was hollow and rather empty sounding, but it was a laugh nonetheless. Olyvar gaped at her in confusion — she was sure the guards were too— eyeing her as though she were mad. "What amuses you so?" he questioned suspiciously, as though he had missed some noteworthy event. That only served to make her laugh harder, and she nearly fell over when Max ran up to her to stand on his own two feet and fall on top of her, eager for her attention. The night was dark and the air was crisp where they stood, and they waited until her laughter had finally died down before they attempted to move. They had only taken two steps forward when Avariella heard the undeniable sound of voices beginning to raise inside of the tent. It sent a jolt of satisfaction thrumming her through her, but she almost instantly felt petty after she had realised what it was. It was childish, she knew, but it felt like a strange, twisted form of justice.

And as Olyvar (and Max) walked her to her tent — which was considerably smaller (not that she expected anything different) than that of Lady Catelyn's— she thought to herself, _Perhaps there are gods after all._

* * *

Avariella expressionlessly observed the soldiers begin to take down the camp the next morning, the suns rays illuminating the morning sky, casting a soft pink with gentle hues of yellow to colour the sky. A small pang of sadness hit her as she realised that this was one of her last Southern sunrises. The likelihood of her ever returning to the South, especially once she was wed— Gods knew when that would be— were particularly slim. Her promise to Shirei echoed in her mind softly, like a prayer of some sorts, and she clung to it for a moment, letting her heart rise. Olyvar was standing next to her, with Max nearby. He offered her a piece of the apple he was peeling with a small knife, and she accepted it silently, giving him a small nod of thanks. She was mentally preparing herself for another day of awkward silence with the two Lady Stark's. She could feel her boredom surface even now, and wished for a brief moment that she could have something to do, such as knitting like Lady Stark.

"Olyvar!" she exclaimed out of the blue, catching him by surprise, "Do you believe that I could sneak a book out from one of my chests without much disruption?" There was a moment before she added, "And before we are supposed to leave?" Olyvar looked at her with an amused expression before sighing loudly, as though she had burdened with an undoable task before murmuring, "I'll go get you one." He left before she could make any request as to _which_ book she wished to read, but Avariella quickly figured that she did not care; one book, regardless of which one, was better than no book at all. There was a small smile on her face that quickly died after Olyvar had disappeared from her sight, and so she gradually went back to observing her surroundings. She spotted Brienne of Tarth from a distance away, her almost white blonde hair standing out in a sea of browns and greys. She did not notice Lady Catelyn anywhere near her however, and had to force down the urge to sigh with relief. It was too early in the morning for her to put on a front for anybody. It occurred to her that she had not seen the King since they had left the day before, which she was not sure to think of as odd or as a relief. She let out a small sound at the back of her throat at the thought. _It was most definitely a relief._

Avariella continued to look around the camp with a passive expression, before her features tightened as she caught eye of the grey beast that belonged to the King. It was a great distance away from her, but she could still notice it's enormous size and presence from where she stood. The beast unnerved her. _Greywind,_ Olyvar's voice supplied in her mind. She scowled darkly, the lines on her forehead appearing as she did so. "Max!" she called out, eager to have him within her line of sight. Avariella was not keen to trust anyone's claims that the beast— Greywind— was not a danger to her or to Max, even Olyvar's. Hells, she could picture it now; she would be standing there, unassuming while the beast bounded towards her furiously before leaping on top of her and ripping out her throat with it's teeth, before promptly eating Max afterwards. It sent a shiver down her spine, and Avariellas mouth suddenly felt dry. Max came to sit by her side, licking his paws to entertain himself, and completely oblivious to her disturbing thoughts. She wasn't aware that the beast was staring at her until her thoughts— the ones of her throat getting ripped out— gradually faded away as she reassured herself of her safety. A chill shot up her spine as she noticed it staring at her intently, as though it could tell that she was thinking of it. Avariella was not quite sure _why_ the beast unsettled her so; maybe it was because of it's large size or the sound it made. She wasn't quite sure. Maybe it was because she knew that if it came down to it, despite Max being a ferocious and loyal dog, he would ultimately die if he ever had to protect her against that _thing._ Not that a man couldn't kill Max if he set his mind to it, but Avariella remembered the incident with Ser Trent vividly, and the feeling of safety that she had felt in Max's presence ever since then had never wavered. It was almost like she felt whenever she was with Avos.

Not that her twin had been particularly large or muscular, but he had always made her feel as though nothing could ever harm her when he was around. Those people, Avariella decided, who could make you feel at home simply by being near you, were rare to find and when—if you found them, you should hold on and never let go. She had let go of her person and now he was dead. The fear inside of her melted away as she stared at the beast, hollowness replacing the hole where her heart was supposed to be. Avariella was tempted to lie down on the damp ground and curl into a ball to protect herself from the outside world.

"You have an intense look in your eye," Olyvar jested, standing next to her. Avariella jumped at the sound of his voice, her eyes widening as she pressed a hand to her chest. _How much time had passed?_ she wondered, glancing around her to find that they had nearly finished taking down the tents and getting everyone into formation. "I am sure I appeared very bothered," she murmured, her eyes fixated on the ground beneath her as she found her bearings. Max whimpered from nearby as soldiers began to walk past him, and so she quickly extended her hand. "Thank you," she says hurriedly, as though someone were waiting for her. "Avariella what's wrong?" Olyvar asked, taking in her form, "I swear if that man returned—"

"He didn't!" Avariella snapped, snatching the book out of his hands. She didn't bother to check the title as she thanked him once more, her cheeks flushing a bright red. She brushed past Olyvar and followed the soldiers, eager to be alone. Olyvar would take care of Max she knew that, and so she refused the urge to look back. To her surprise, she felt a small amount of relief flood through her when she noticed the Queen and Lady Catelyn climbing into the carriage. She hurried over to the opened door and allowed herself to be helped in by a nearby guard, careful to not let the book fall onto the ground.

The door shut behind her immediately as she sat across from the Queen and Lady Catelyn, gripping the book tightly in her palms. Her eyes flicker up to glance between the two women, and it was then that her suspicions were instantly confirmed. The Queen and Lady Catelyn were sitting as far away from each other as they could on the seats, and weren't even glancing in the others direction. _Perfect,_ she thought, _this is will make everything better._ Her throat felt oddly dry as she stared at them, before she awkwardly uttered, "Good morning." They both uttered half hearted replies in return, but made no further effort to have a conversation. _Thank the seven._

Avariella resisted the urge to smile in relief as she flipped the book in her hands so she could see the title. She had always enjoyed all kinds of novels, having no preference despite reading most of the books in the Twins library. She had only packed two dozen or so, and for a brief moment she wished the Winterfell library was somewhat well preserved. The excitement she felt blooming in her stomach instantly vanished the moment she read the title. _A History of the North and its' Houses by Maester Limon._ Avariella could not help the scowl appearing on her face. _Olyvar,_ the voice in her mind growled. Avariella remembered packing the book on a whim (she had started to read it after her father first announced that one of them was going to marry Robb Stark, but she had abandoned it once her duties began to grow) but she had never truly planned on reading it. She sighed softly, but nevertheless opened the book and began to read.

They began to move gradually, the carriage bouncing every time they went down a small hill and shuttering every time they went over some rocks. It was an uncomfortable experience, Avariella noted as she turned the page, she did not look forward to future travels such as these. She frowned as the suns light blinded her eyes and she shied away from the window, lifting a hand to cover her eyes. She carefully folded the edge of the page she was on and placed the book beside her, moving to the window so that she could close the curtain. However, as she lifted her hand to do so, she stopped. She was suddenly awestruck by the green outside, by the number of hills and mountains that she had never seen before.

"Lady Catelyn," she called gently, dragging her eyes away from the view, "Where are we?" Lady Catelyn eyed her with something very akin to amusement, a soft smile gracing her lips, "We are still in the Riverlands, Lady Avariella." Avariella nodded gently, a smile gracing her own lips as she stared out the window. She wondered whether or not Avos had seen these same trees or breathed the air she was inhaling. _I didn't even know there was this much green in the world,_ she wondered, not wanting to miss a detail. She had never left the Twins before— she had never really expected to, despite wishing that she someday would— and when Olyvar and Avos had left for War she had begged them to include every detail of their surroundings. She sat there for gods know how long, simply watching, observing, wishing that she could touch every tree, count every grain of grass that was out there.

"You've never left the Twins before have you?" The Queen asked her, making Avariella jump slightly. Avariella shifted so that her head was turned to face the Queen, the warm sensation in her chest slowly dying as she met her brown eyes. "This is my first time, your grace," she replied evenly, her gaze unwavering. There was a small look of surprise on the Queens face at her answer. "You never left the Twins at all my lady?" the Queen questioned, a small hint of horror in her voice. Avariella could see Lady Catelyn shoot her a warning look out of the corner of her eye. "I never had a reason too," Avariella replied cooly, tucking a strand of her red hair behind her ears.

"You must be excited to live some place new, I assume," The Queen added, clasping her hands together in her lap. It took considerable effort for her not to raise her eyebrows. _I called your husband an oathbreaker for all to see and you believe that I am looking forward to living in his home?_

"Very much so," Avariella agreed, the words creating a bitter taste in her mouth. She turned to stare out the window once more, taking in the green landscape. Neither of them questioned her any further, and silence returned to them once more, for which Avariella was grateful. She lifted a hand to the glass, a tenderness overwhelming her heart as she did so. _Avos_ her mind whispered, _why aren't you here?_ She wasn't sure how much time passed with her sitting there and taking in the view, but she began to notice the sun rising further and further into the sky. It made her heart ache. This was most likely all of Westeros she would ever see. She would see the North undoubtedly, but the North was grey, lifeless land that held no true wonders for her to explore. Avariella would never have the chance to visit the sands of Dorne or the Eyrie. It had been foolish of her to ever believe she would, Avariella knew that—she had known that for a long time— but to finally have that reality thrusted upon her disturbed her in ways that she could not begin to describe. _How unfair it is,_ she suddenly thought, _that a healer from a foreign land has seen more of my country than I ever have— or ever will._

Avariella removed her hand from the window and shifted so that she was back to her original spot, and picked up her book once more, resisting the temptation to stare out the window one last time. She was in the middle of reading about the history of House Dustin when Lady Catelyn spoke up, "My lady, may I interrupt you as to question what you are reading?" Avariella froze slightly, her eyes glued to the words in front of her. It took her a moment to pull together a response, and as she did so she flushed a light shade of red. "A History of the North and its' Houses by Maester Limon," she recited, meeting her gaze defiantly. The elder woman revealed nothing as she observed Avariella. "And how do you find the Norths history?" she questioned politely. _Overwhelmingly dull._ "Quite enthralling," Avariella responded, "The North is an interesting Kingdom, my lady."

"Indeed," Lady Catelyn agreed, something very similar to approval flashing in her blue eyes, "I admire your desire to learn more about the culture you are marrying into. I wish I had done the same before travelling to the North myself. It was quite the change at the beginning." Avariella blinked rapidly at the red haired woman, and resisted the urge to laugh at how obviously she had insulted her daughter in law. She could see the Queen react to the insult out of the corner of her eye, but she made no further attempt to observe her. "I was merely interested my lady, but thank you for the compliment." _I was not the one who even chose the book for the light of the seven._

"I assume you were taught by a Septa until you were. . ."

It took Avariella a moment to answer, "Ten and five, my lady." Lady Catelyn looked slightly taken aback at her answer. "That is a rather young age for a girl to finish her studies," she commented, "My lessons ended when I was ten and six."

"My lady my lessons ended when my family joined the war," she pointed out, "My duties to my father and to my household grew to twice to what they used to be. Someone needed to keep the castle in order, organise the supplies, ration the grain we harvested, count the coppers and write it all down in ledgers."

"You have numerous brothers and sisters," Lady Catelyn said, as though that was supposed to mean something. Avariella resisted the urge to snort at her comment and instead replied, "Majority of my brothers had left and my remaining sisters. . .None of them wished to do it. Shirei was too young and Roslin helped as best she could." _As best as any one of us knew how. You don't know what it was like,_ she wanted to scream, _I was a mere child. We were all children. We tried and did the best we could have done. Our father did not care that we had gone to bed starving for weeks until I began to work with the farmers to ration the grains properly; the best I knew how. You do not get to pass judgement on me Lady Stark,_ she thought furiously, _you have no idea who I am. Besides, most of my elder half siblings stopped their lessons when they were only ten and two, or somewhere along those lines._

"My mother passed when I was very young," Lady Stark informed her, "I was Lady of Riverrun in her stead. I understand the level of responsibility that was thrust onto your shoulders. You did an admirable job." Avariella was speechless. Words escaped her. She stared at the woman in front of her with a well-concealed expression that somehow managed to hide her inner turmoil. _Did she just— how?_ It was then that she was suddenly aware of the Queen staring at her intently. She turned to look back at her, and was slightly taken aback at the whirl of emotions in the Queens eyes. It was a mixture of sadness, anger, hurt and a slight hint of jealousy that left her confused. _You have no right to be angry with me,_ Avariella wanted to hiss, _you made your choices, and now you must accept the consequences of them. I am a consequence of your actions._

It was almost as if she had said it aloud. The Queen flushed under her gaze and pointedly looked in the other direction, as though she were too ashamed to hold her gaze. The carriage came to a sudden halt, and it was with wide eyed surprise that Avariella noticed that the sun was beginning to set. The door opened a few moments afterwards and the Queen immediately stood and climbed out quickly, almost as if she could no longer handle being in their vicinity. Not that Avariella blamed her, she was not particularly enthralled at the notion of being close to her for several hours for the next few weeks. Avariella glanced at Lady Catelyn from the corner of her eye, and quickly took notice of how her blue eyes had hardened considerably, with numerous emotions lingering just underneath the surface.

"My lady's?" The guard called, jolting the both of them back to reality. She let Lady Catelyn exit ahead of her before climbing out the carriage herself, quickly letting go of the guards' gloved hand. She felt tired and drained, as though all of her strength had been emptied. She walked forward with slow, heavy steps, eager to find a place to sit down. _I'm not sure I can do this,_ she thought, trying to reassemble herself, though as to _what_ she couldn't do Avariella wasn't quite sure.

* * *

The next two weeks passed by with few incidences. She rose with the camp at first light, and entered the carriage after she had broken her fast with Olyvar and Max (occasionally she was invited to join Lady Catelyn and the Queen, but whenever she did so the Queen was never there) with a book in her hand. She then spent several hours reading or staring out of the window, taking in what little of the world around her she could see. It was strange and monotonous routine she had developed, and even though it pained her to admit it she was eager to arrive at Winterfell; though this desire was caused by her disdain of the time it was taking to reach Winterfell. They were getting closer and closer Avariella knew. The once evergreen hills and grass covered with this forestation was slowly beginning to turn greyer and greyer. The trees appearing sparser and sparser and the sky turning from a sky blue on most days to a dull, endless grey that hung over her head. The air grew colder and colder, until she was now wearing a warm cloak that looked similar to the one Lady Catelyn had also taken to wearing. She never saw the King. Avariella had seen the beast—Greywind— from a distance, more times than she was comfortable with, but she was slowly beginning to not become frozen with fear and apprehension whenever she saw the dire wolf.

The peace however, would come to an end on the first night of the third week of their journey to Winterfell.

It was the beginning of sunset when Avariella exited her small tent, fastening the clasp of her cloak as she did so. Max was at her heels, panting happily, eager for her attention. She cast a small smile at him as she walked forward, carefully stepping out of the way of a soldier so that they did not collide. The air was colder than that she had ever experienced, and it bit at her cheeks, causing them to turn a bright shade of red. Olyvar and her had been invited to join the Starks for dinner that night, and she was meant to meet Olyvar before they left. She frowned once she realised Olyvar was not waiting outside her tent as he said he would, and with a fearful emotion growing in the pit of her stomach she began to walk in search of him with Max at her side.

It took her a short while of walking around the camp to notice the large gathering of men in a circle. She had been oblivious to them as she walked in the direction of Olyvars' tent but the sound of Max growling darkly made her notice them. She moved in their direction, her heart beginning to pound faster and faster as she came closer and closer. _Please let Olyvar not be involved, please please please_

It was when she was a mere body length away from the circle of men that she began to hear the sounds. The men were cheering loudly in her ears but she could not make sense of the words. The sounds she was beginning to hear made a lump form in her throat. There were moans of pain and groans of exertion that were mixed with the sound of someone pounding their fist onto another's face. _Oh gods no,_ she thought, fear spreading ice through her body, _please no._ She began to shove her way through the crowd of men, their surprise at the sudden movement allowed her to move forward quicker than she expected. Max began to snarl at anyone who complained as she shoved her way through the front of the crowd, her hands beginning to ache due to the sheer strength she was using.

"Olyvar!" she yelled, once she had reached the front of the crowd. There was a man pinning down another man onto the ground below, striking his face relentlessly. Desperation clawed at her insides once she realised that her brother was the one pummelling his fists onto the face of another. She could not see who he was fighting, but that was because of the amount of blood that was staining his face and pouring out of his nose and mouth. Olyvars' fists were bloody and bruised but they never once stopped their movements. "Olyvar!" she yelled once more and though she knew better she moved to stop him but the moment she had taken a step or two in his direction an arm latched itself around her waist and she was pressed against an unfamiliar body. "You'll get yourself killed," Lady Brienne hissed, holding her back as she tried to thrash her way out of her grip.

Max was barking at Olyvar furiously, but it was as though Olyvar couldn't hear. His fists continued to come down with an unrelenting fury. "Olyvar stop it!" she yelled, finally slumping against Lady Brienne's body. It was then that he froze at the sound of her voice, blood dribbling down his chin. Lady Brienne let her go and the moment she did so Avariella staggered forward, her hazel eyes wide with an indescribable emotion. "Olyvar," she said forcefully, trying to call him back to reality. He sat there on top of the man, staring down at the bloodied man with a vacant expression. "Olyvar," she said softly, moving next to him before lowering herself to his level, so that she was now on her knees. She then became aware of the sudden quietness that had taken over. Olyvar began to slump forward, as though he were about to collapse on top of the man. She gazed down at the mans' bloody face and with a sudden horrific jolt she recognised him as the knight he had threatened not too long ago. The knight that had taunted her about Ser Trent. _Gods,_ she thought, slowly raising one of her hands to rest on Olyvars' shoulder. Olyvar jumped at the sudden contact, startling her, before turning his head to look her in the eye.

Her heart constricted as she took note of the complete and utter hurt and wounded expression in his eyes as he looked at her. Words escaped her as they continued to stare at one another. "Olyvar," she whispered gently, but all it made him do was shake his shoulder as to rid himself of her touch.

"Olyvar."

Avariella snapped her head up to look at the King, shock forcing her to rise to her full height. Olyvar rose at the sight of him, though the movement was slow and limp. Avariella stared at the King with a wary expression, unable to decipher the thoughts behind those blue eyes that were currently staring at her brother with an unreadable expression. His eyes flickered down to look at the bloody body right beside Olyvar, and it was with a hard voice that he asked, "Is he dead?"

Olyvar shook his head after a moment but didn't say anything. It was in that moment that Avariella understood why people feared Robb Stark during the war. He was of average height in normal circumstances, but in that moment he seemed to tower above both of them. His eyes were cold and unmoved as he stared at Olyvar with an aloof expression that she knew had caused thousands of people to feel a chill run down their spine. Avariella was not afraid as she stood before him, but she could understand _why_ one would fear him. It was at that moment that his gaze moved to look at her, and an emotion flickered in his eyes so quickly that she barely saw it happen.

"I'll talk to you both after Olyvar gets his hands bandaged," is all he said, before turning on his heel and walking through the parted crowd, Greywind at his heels. She felt the familiar presence of Max at her side but all she did was stand there and stare at his retreating figure. _What do I do?_ she thought, her hands hanging limp at her side, _what do I do?_

* * *

She sat next to Olyvar as his hands were bandaged and cleaned by a healer. No words were exchanged between the two of them as they waited for the healer to finish with her work. Avariella dragged her eyes upward so that she could take in his form. _He's angry._ His shoulders were taunt and his jaw was locked as he stared at some spot in front of him, not even looking in her direction. The healer seemed to take notice of his anger as she moved with such quickness that her hands visibly trembled as she finished wrapping the final bandage around his hand. "Try your best not to strain them for the next week or so," she instructed shakily, taking a step away from him, "I'll change the bandages after two days or so in order to prevent an infection from the cuts. The cut on your lip should also heal within a week." She stood there awkwardly as she waited for Olyvar to respond.

"Thank you," Avariella spoke up, her voice breaking. It was the first time she had spoken since she had entered the healers tent, and the sound of her voice made the muscle in Olyvars' cheek spasm. The healer nodded and sent a nervous smile in her direction, and when neither of them made an effort to move she hurriedly said, "I will let you two have a moment or two alone." She left before either of them could reply.

Her heart was what she imagined a war dram was like; big, ominous _bum dum bum dum_ 's that echoed in her ears and made her hands tremble in her lap. "What did he tell you?" she asked hesitantly, her voice quiet yet surprisingly firm. Olyvar didn't look at her. "Olyvar if we are going to talk about—about what happened then you are going to have to look at me."

He still didn't look at her.

She rose from where she sat and moved herself so that she was standing directly in front of him, the candles casting a small shadow on his face. His eyes were blank as he stared at her, and it unnerved her to see them so empty. "You know," she stated, rubbing a hand across her throat. His eyes visibly darkened but he still said nothing. "About Ser Trent." At the mention of his name Olyvars' lips parted as he breathed in and out loudly, as though he were trying to calm himself. "I'm sorry you found out that way," is all she could bring herself to say.

That made Olyvar snap.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked her, anger laced in his tone. "Why?"

Avariella blinked before answering, "I didn't see the point."

Olyvar shook his head at her reply, the bitterness on his features made him look as though he had aged ten years. "Didn't see the point," he muttered, scrapping a hand over his face. She stood there, waiting for him to speak. "Were you ever planning on telling me that he tried to— that he tried to—" his voice broke off as his face crumpled with disgust and anger. His hands had begun to tremble, with rage or helplessness Avariella did not know.

"Yes," she replied evenly, never missing a beat, "I had planned on telling you and Avos when you came back from the war but—but after you came back and Avos had died I just. . . getting revenge didn't matter to me anymore. Nothing really did."

Avariella snapped her head up with surprise once Olyvar began to laugh. It was a cruel and bitter laugh, without any warmth or kindness and it unnerved her to see her brother so emotionless. It was the kind of laugh she had never thought him capable of. His laughter made her feel annoyed with him, her features darkening. "What in the seven hells is amusing to you at a time like this?" she questioned angrily, her cheeks flushing.

The anger in his eyes made her want to take a step back. They glared at each other for a long time once he stopped. "That's what it always comes down to isn't it?" he asked, standing. Avariella frowned at him, not quite sure what he meant. "What do you mean—"

"Avos," he interrupted, "It always comes back to him. Every little thing." Avariella felt her body stiffen at his tone— at the bitterness in his voice when he mentioned her brothers name. _Their brother,_ her mind whispered, _he was both of ours_. "What are you talking about?" she retorted, taking a step away from him. "Avariella the reason why you never told me about Ser Trent was not because it didn't matter to you anymore it was because the person you wanted— that you _needed_ to protect you from him was Avos. Never me. That's why you didn't tell me. I was not the brother you wanted to play your knight in shining armour. I was not the one you wanted to come back from the war in the first place—"

"How dare you?" Avariella snapped, her voice rising with her fury. "How dare you even say that—"

"How dare you deny it?" he snapped back, his eyes dark. "Admit it Avariella, you wished it had been me all this time. You wish that I had been the one who died and that Avos had lived in my stead! Admit it!" Avariella slapped his bruised cheek with all her might, her eyes burning as she glared at him with anger. Her jaw was locked so tightly she thought her teeth would break. "That is not true," she ground out, "I never once wished that you had died in Avos's place. Not once. But there is some truth to your claims Olyvar, I did feel safer with Avos. But that has nothing to do with you and everything to do with the relationship I had with him. I shared a womb with him, a mother with him. We breathed the same air, dreamt the same dreams, feared the same fears. He was a part of me. We were two sides of the same coin Olyvar and then he died and I lost a part of myself that I do not think I will ever get back. You are the brother I chose to have, Avos was the brother that was given to me. So for you to even suggest that I ever wished you were dead makes me almost wish I had!"

She froze as the words exited her mouth, the anger inside of her suddenly disappearing. "Olyvar," she said gently, rubbing her eyes, "I didn't—I did not mean—"

"Yes you did," is all he said, swallowing loudly. It was then that someone cleared their voice from behind her. She turned to the source and her heart grew limp in her chest as she stared at the King, who was staring straight at her. "Olyvar," he called out, his eyes never leaving her own, "I'll speak with you tomorrow. You may go now." Olyvar instantly brushed past her as he moved towards the Kings direction. He didn't look at her on his way out. "Sleep well your grace," he said, pausing in front of the King, "Good night." The King nodded and as soon as he did Olyvar left.

The tension in the tent was overwhelming. It was as though a noose had been wrapped around her neck she felt so suffocated. "I would like for you to tell me the full story, Lady Avariella," the King dictated, with a surprisingly gentle tone. Avariella snapped her head up to look at him, gazing at him with a withdrawn expression. She couldn't feel anything. She only felt drained.

"During the first year of the war, when my brothers left, a knight that serves my house tried to rape me." She was staring at her feet now, unable to look at him. Unable to handle telling her darkest secret to one of the people she hated most in this world. "It was dark out but I needed to put Max back in the kennels, Lord Frey did not like it when I kept Max in the castle. On my way there I stumbled upon—" her voice broke as she began to retell the tale. She remembered it so vividly. The shoes she was wearing, the colour of her dress, the smell of his breath, the mole on under his chin, the scar on the side of his neck. "On my way there I stumbled upon the knight. I tried to move past him but he wouldn't let me. Max had run ahead of me before so I was alone. I asked him to move but he didn't. When I tried to move around him he grabbed a hold of me and forced me to the ground, pinning my hands above my head with one hand and covering my mouth with his—" she remembered him forcing his tongue down her throat. "Max must have heard my screams because he ran back and stopped him. Bit off many of his fingers on his sword hand. Stopped him." It was then that she garnered what was left of her dignity to look him in the eye. If he was surprised at what she had told him, he couldn't tell. "One of the men my father sent with us knew him and taunted me with that knowledge. He then proceeded to tell Olyvar earlier on this evening. How he did so I am not quite sure your grace, but it clearly provoked my brother into a violent rage."

She let out a shaky breath, feeling unnervingly vulnerable under his gaze. He still did not say anything, but merely stood there looking at her. "Your grace may I return to my chambers?" she asked numbly, "I feel rather tired." He nodded silently, and she nearly collapsed with relief as she made her way to the flap of the tent, his voice stopped her from leaving however.

"Lady Avariella," he said, making her turn back to look at him, "What happened that night. . .it was not your fault. The blame is only his."

"Thank you for saying so, your grace," she said, swallowing down the lump in her throat, "I apologise for any inconvenience my brother and I may have caused you and your family this evening. Please accept my apologies. Good night your grace." And then she hurried away, unable to bear being in his presence any longer.

* * *

It took another week and a half before they arrived at Winterfell, and during that time she never saw Olyvar. If the King had told his mother or the Queen what she had been forced to tell him she could not tell, but she knew that they had heard of the incident with Olyvar by the expression on their faces when she had entered the carriage the next day. It was cold when they arrived at Winterfell. The green fields of the Riverlands had long since turned into the grey landscape the North was known for. She sat there in the carriage, a single grey fur draped over her chest. Lady Catelyn was dressed similar to she and Avariella was slightly taken aback by the glint of happiness and excitement in the elder woman's eyes. She did not look at the Queen.

The carriage came to a sudden stop. She heard the distant voices of the men outside and all of a sudden she felt nauseous. _I want to go home,_ she thought, _if I go out there this will become real. I do not want this to be real._ The door opened, and once again Avariella was reminded that there were no gods. The Queen was escorted out first, her frame covered by the numerous furs wrapped around her. Lady Catelyn was next and then she. It felt like a dream, climbing out of the carriage. The wind was howling furiously, making the icy air feel even colder against her fair skin. The light was blinding once she had fully exited the tent, and it took her a few moments for her eyes to adjust, and once she did, she took in her surroundings.

Avariella looked around the ruins of Winterfell. She had heard whispers of it during the war, when her family was involved and during her lessons. Avariella and been told that it was thousands of years old, with hot springs underneath the castle and that it was made of dark stone. It had sounded so lovely to her back then; it had sounded like a home. A proper, true home. Now, all it was were ruins. Most structures were semi-collapsed, stones were lying at random on the barren ground. Someone had made a poor attempt of trying to get rid of all the ash that had somehow managed to cling to the ruined structure despite the fires being over a year ago. All of the people that remained— or that returned to Winterfell, looked haunted and hollow, broken. But nothing was compared to the look of utter despair etched across Lady Catelyn and the King's face. It was as though someone had caused them incurable pain, and the look in their eyes, of complete and utter grief. . .

Avariella felt something begin to blossom in her chest as she stared at the two of them, it was small but it was there, and she couldn't make it go away. What it was was sympathy. The larger part of her knew better than to sympathise with the Starks— the larger part of her told her that she shouldn't, not after everything— but she could not help it. The feeling lingered in her chest, spreading through her body like a disease, and she hated it— she wanted it to disappear with every fibre of her being, but it persisted. It sunk into her bones and stained her skin.

Her jaw locked in anger, and she shook her head gently, her curls flying around wildly when the wind blew violently. She was cold, alone, and angry, but whether she liked it or not this was her home for the time being.

And with that realisation— not for the first time— Avariella wished she were anywhere but there.


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Avariella grew up with the knowledge that the lifestyle her family lived at the Twins was not how most nobles lived. Most nobles had a clean castle that only stunk of mead and sex after a particularly nice feast. Their daughters and sons were almost always well dressed and well-mannered, or at least they gave off the appearance as being as such. The Twins were the complete opposite. No one cared about how anyone acted as long as it was not too bothersome, and even if someone did find another's behaviour bothersome, they could rarely stop them. The Twins was an overcrowded and overly loud castle that stunk of sweat and mead on a daily basis. And yet somehow Avariella found herself longing for the loudness as the silence of Winterfell echoed in her ears. She stood behind the King and Lady Catelyn and was able to see between the space of their heads. There was a small clutter of people in a formed line in front of them all with solemn, haunted expressions etched on their features.

 _Dear gods,_ she thought, resisting the urge to shiver. It took her a few moments to hear the sound of more people approaching, their footfalls ringing in her ears. She turned her head so that she could see who it was and caught a small glimpse of flaming red hair and pale skin. "Sansa," Lady Catelyn exclaimed, hurrying forward to hug her eldest daughter fiercely. Sansa Stark was as beautiful as the rumours claimed. Her bright red hair was a stark contrast to the greyness surrounding her, and her ivory skin was clear and unblemished. Even though Avariella was standing a few feet in distance away from the two Stark women she could see Sansa Starks eyes; they were some of the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Not the watery blue like Avos's or the Winter blue like the Kings, but the blue of the sky. She was one of the most beautiful people Avariella had ever seen.

The King moved to greet his sister as well and Avariella observed the reunion with a sense of detachment that swallowed her whole. _That should have been us,_ she thought darkly, clasping her hands in front of her modestly, _that should have been me, Olyvar, Roslin, Shirei and Avos. We should have gotten that._ She didn't let herself feel bitter for long however, as she looked at the Queen out of the corner of her eye. The woman seemed solemn yet peaceful with a warm expression on her features. It was a great contrast to how her body looked. She was wrapped in numerous forms with warm-looking gloves gracing her hands that seemed overly large, as if they were gloves made for a man. Almost instantly, her hands became cold as she thought about how warm those gloves were—

"Lady Frey," Lady Catelyn called, looking at her expectantly. Avariella jumped at the sound of her voice, and realised that the Queen had joined the group however long ago and that they were all waiting for her to introduce herself. She resisted the urge to flush under all of their gazes, and instead moved forward, her footsteps ringing in her ears as she stepped on the pieces of stone beneath her.

She curtsied once she reached the group, bowing her head appropriately. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you Lady Sansa," she said, tilting her head up to look at her. "Sansa," the King spoke, "This is Lady Avariella Frey, she will be living at Winterfell for the foreseeable future." _Foreseeable future,_ she thought, dread forming in her stomach, _how am I going to survive?_ Lady Sansa blinked rapidly at her brothers words, as though she couldn't quite believe it. Or that she couldn't believe that _she_ was a Frey. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Avariella," Lady Sansa said, a hint of surprise in her voice. It made Avariellas' lips twitch with amusement. She had always known that she had been one of the more decent looking members of her family, but to see a member of a great house so evidently surprised and flustered to learn she was a daughter of Walder Frey amused her so much that she nearly had to bite down on her lip to keep from laughing. _I took after my mother,_ she wanted to add, just to see Lady Sansas' face flush even redder. But there had also been another emotion lingering in Lady Sansas' eyes. It was one of instant curiosity and it was then that Avariella knew that she had heard of her first encounter with the King; where she had called him an oath breaker. _Seems I already have a reputation to uphold,_ she thought grimly, clasping her hands together tightly.

She pressed her lips into a tight smile, the wind whipping her cheeks when another voice started, a male voice this time, "Your grace, my queen, Lady Catelyn, it is a pleasant surprise to see you both so soon. We were expecting you to arrive later." The voice came from behind Sansa and Avariella tilted her head to the side so she could get a glimpse of who it was. She frowned once she saw no sign of the man and it didn't occur to her who it was until Lady Sansa stepped to the side, revealing a man of such small stature he only came up to Avariellas' waist. _Oh,_ she thought, her features lifting with surprise until she realised who it was. _Oh,_ she thought, her features hardening immediately. The effect on her body was instantaneous. Her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides as she stared at the Lannister so intensely she thought her eyes would bulge out of her skull. Her jaw locked so tightly she could feel her teeth scraping against each other. Her brothers name was repeating itself like a prayer in her mind _Avos Avos Avos Avos._ Her legs cried out for her to move; to swing at him with all of her might, to scratch at his eyes, at his hair, at every single inch of him she could reach. To make him bleed like his family made her bleed. To make him hurt like her family made her hurt.

There was a difference between her hatred for the Starks and her hatred for the Lannisters; she hated the Starks because they made Avos's death worthless but she hated the Lannisters because they were the reason there was a war in the first place; they were the reason why Avos was at war in the first place. Every part of her body was screaming at her to move, to take action, everyone else be damned and she wanted to. She _craved_ to.

But she didn't.

"Avariella," Olyvar whispered warningly, suddenly standing beside her. Max sat himself on her right foot, his familiar warmth a cooling presence. "Don't." She didn't have to ask him what he was referring to. _Breathe,_ she told herself, slowly unclenching her fists, _breathe._ She met the gaze of the short man, meeting his mismatched eyes with a gaze so cold it could make someone shiver. She watched as he greeted the party with an intense gaze and when he finally reached her her body was nearly shaking due to her choking down her anger.

"Lady Frey," he greeted loudly, watching her with a curious expression. _He also knows about you,_ her mind whispered, but Avariella was uncomprehending. "I am Tyrion Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock. It is a pleasure to meet you." _I hope you rot in the deepest of the seven hells._ "Lord Lannister," she greeted, curtsying as she did so. She clasped her hands together tightly in order to prevent herself from clenching them into fists. "It is a pleasure to meet you as well." He nodded at her, an expression of amusement lingering on his features as he moved to introduce himself to Olyvar. Max was taunt where he sat beneath her, ready to pounce on the small Lord. He sensed her anger, her hatred, and the small shred of fear that lurked deep inside of her. Avariella turned her head to observe Olyvar and Lord Tyrions' interaction and she was slightly pleased to find that he seemed as unhappy to meet the man as she.

She wondered when he would want to talk to her again. While Avariella did feel guilty for what she had said—truly, she did— there were some small remnants of anger left within her towards Olyvar. _How could he?_ she thought, _how dare he think that? And how dare he accuse me of that when—_

"Rickon!" The sound of Lady Catelyn's voice so loud made her snap out of her thoughts. Avariella looked around the battered courtyard, looking for the youngest Stark. At least she thought he was the youngest Stark. "Mother!" a small boy exclaimed as he ran to Lady Catelyn, wrapping his arms around her kneeling frame. She could see Lady Catelyn nearly fall back due to the sheer impact of him running to her, and it nearly made Avariella smile. The hugging pair eventually rose to their full heights and turned to face them.

 _Avos._

 _Avos._

She could feel her face begin to whiten as though she had seen a ghost. Her lips parted into a small 'o' as she stared straight at Rickon Stark, her heart pounding in her chest as everything came to a slow around her. _How?_ she thought, her breaths turning shallow. It was as though her brother had risen from the grave. Rickon Stark had the same curls as Avos, the same freckles spread out on his cheeks. Their skin was the same shade. And their eyes— oh their eyes. They were identical. The same shade of blue. The exact shade. Her bones grew brittle and the fire in her veins began to die. All thoughts of anger or hatred quickly evaporated as she gazed at the little boy, her eyes stinging. She couldn't hate him. Not like she did the others. She couldn't.

Avos would not let her.

She could feel Maxs' body relax on her foot as a sound of wounded curiosity escaped his throat. She let out a shaky breath, eager to regain her composure as her hands began to tremble at her sides. Avariella watched with a shaken expression as Rickon Stark hugged his brother and shyly greeted the Queen, clutching at his mothers skirts as he did so. _What happened to you?_ she thought fiercely, the trembling in her hands coming to an end. It wasn't simply shyness on the young boys face but fear also, and even though he was a Stark that did not stop the tenderness blooming in her chest, warming herself against the cold. It wasn't like the furious anger that had lit her veins on fire, it was more of a warm glow, like the sun rising. It was how she used to feel when she was with Avos.

Rickon seemed to shy further away when they began to approach her and Olyvar. Avariella saw another woman lurking behind Lady Sansa— a good distance behind her— with an intense expression on her face as she carefully observed Rickon Stark, ready to sweep him away if anything got too intense. Her features were unfamiliar, even for a Northerner, they were too wild, too ragged.

"Rickon," Lady Catelyn said, gently tugging him forward with her hands, "This is Lady Avariella Frey and her brother Olyvar, They will both be staying here in Winterfell for a little while." _Go and say hello._ Rickon took small hesitant steps in her direction, biting down on his lower lip as he took her in. Avariella met his eyes for a moment, and then did a move that surprised everyone around her. She crouched down so that she was at his height, and they were looking at each other face to face. "Hello," she greeted warmly, careful not to stare into his eyes for too long. Max made a noise of disapproval of the motion, as he had been shifted off the foot he was resting on. Rickons' gaze flickered over to Max, his eyes widening. "Is. . . is he yours?" he asked gently, a hint of unsureness in his youthful voice. "Yes he is mine," she agreed readily, "His name is Max."

"Max," he repeated, as though the word was foreign. "I have a dire wolf," he declared proudly, "His name is Shaggydog. My sisters thought it was a silly name but I liked it." Avariella smiled for a moment and responded, "I think its very creative." She then rose to her full height and curtsied, "It is a pleasure to meet you my lord." He smiled at her, bright and shining in a place full of grey, and her heart rose in her throat as she forced herself to nod. Her eyes glanced towards Olyvar and a small smile appeared on her lips as she noticed the similar expression of shock on his face. She gently placed her hand on his elbow to bring him back to reality. His eyes flickered rapidly before an unreadable mask settled over his features as he greeted the young Stark politely—distantly. Avariella frowned at him, taken aback by his aloofness.

"Now that everyone has been introduced," the King began, and it was then that Avariella took notice of the nobles surrounding them. Some she remembered seeing at the Twins and others she did not. But they all shared the similar Northern characteristics. It was difficult for her to explain but there was a minor visible difference between the Northerners and Southerners. She knew their lifestyle and culture was different but there was something in the way they held themselves, something in the way they _looked_ that was different. That was foreign. Unfamiliar.

"We must immediately begin with the reconstruction of Winterfell. Since the Great Keep was destroyed during the Greyjoy's siege we will focus most of our efforts there and then begin with other structures—" Avariella lost interest after he began talking and instead she found herself looking for Rickon Stark. She settled her gaze on him, taking in the way he looked at his brother with open admiration and in slight awe. It made her throat constrict, seeing someone who looked so like her brother admire the one who made his death meaningless so openly—so strongly. It was wrong of her to feel that way she knew—it was even silly to feel as such— Robb Stark was Rickon Starks' brother after all.

Avariella began to look around the ruins of Winterfell once again, making sure to observe anything of importance. Majority of the walls were still standing tall around them, though the walls that separated the courtyards were mostly torn down, the rubble laying lifeless on the cold ground. They would have to rebuild the pavement with stone. Avariella felt slightly overwhelmed by the disaster around her, and tried to picture the Twins being so destroyed. It surprised her to find that the thought made her stomach knot together. She didn't hate the Twins, merely the people who lived in it.

Olyvar nudged her gently with his shoulder, alerting her to the fact that another man wearing Maesters' robes was speaking. The man was of the same age as Lady Catelyn, with grey eyes that could pierce anyone with a single look. His face was worn and crinkled, but unlike the other Northerners his face was warmer, more welcoming. It took her a moment to process what he was saying and when she did a flutter of excitement flooded through her. "Ravens have arrived from the Riverlands the day before, as well as a raven from the wall." She nearly ran over to him and demanded he hand it over at once.

"Later on in the evening, Maester," The King said, instantly lowering her hopes. She locked her jaw but accepted his words with a discrete gulp. Her eyes narrowed as she stared off into a distant far away spot, not listening to a word he was saying. Truth be told, Avariella did not know what she was supposed to do. She didn't particularly care to help the Starks—the thought made her flinch— but she did feel for the people of Winterfell in a way she did not expect. Avariella was not sure whether she could set aside her hatred of the people who ruled over them in order to truly, genuinely assist them. _What am I going to do?_ she wondered, rubbing a cold hand against her throat.

It took a few moments for her to realise someone was calling her name.

"Avariella," Olyvar called gently, lowering his voice so only she could hear. Her gaze turned to meet his and she acknowledged him with a small nod, waiting for him to finish speaking. "You're expected to go with Lady Catelyn for the morning and then assist the Queen in the afternoon— you are to be her lady in waiting." Avariella had to hide her instant disgust and wariness at the news. "Lady in waiting?" she hissed, careful not to let the royal family hear her, "What in the seven hells am I supposed to do with her?"

"Help her," Olyvar replied simply, the crowd beginning to disperse at the moment the words left his mouth. Olyvar shot her a brief smile that did not quite reach his eyes and she knew—or rather it was reaffirmed— that not everything had been smoothed out between them. Her and Olyvar had never been the ones with conflict between them. Olyvar and her had been close as children but what Avariella had said a few weeks before was true; Avos was the brother that was given to her, that was _a part_ of her. Olyvar was the brother whom she grew close to over time. It was different with her and Roslin; Avos was her other half but Roslin was her _sister._ There was a distinct difference between the two but that did not mean she loved Olyvar any less. It simply meant she was closer with the other two. Olyvar was to Roslin what Avos had been to her— not as close or connected, but they had been the closest Avariella had ever seen.

Her frown deepened when she caught sight of the Lannister and Sansa Stark moving across the broken courtyards to someplace unknown. Anger flared beneath in her skin but she was careful to hide it, and decided to shift herself so that she was staring at Lady Catelyn and the Queen instead. Rickon Stark had gone off to the wild looking woman she had spotted before but from the way she held his hand she knew they were close. Max nudged her knee with his head and she reached down to lay her hand down on his head comfortingly.

The Queen and Lady Catelyn were discussing something with each other fervently, their voices mere whispers. They were arguing, Avariella realised with a sudden beat and she had the sudden urge to pull them apart like they were children that needed chastising. She was all too aware of the eyes on them and for the first time— and what she was sure to be the last— she wished the King would return with his party of men. The two women tended to keep their hatred at bay whenever he was around. _I thought the North was mean to be united._ she thought, _who were the fools that ever came up with such an idea?_

Lady Catelyn nodded at something the Queen said before the Queen curtsied and moved to the group of people clustered in the opposite direction of them. The wind howled, causing her to shift the furs draped over her shoulders so that it better covered her throat. "You will be joining me for the first few hours," Lady Catelyn told her, repeating what Olyvar had said before. "We will be helping with the rebuilding of several courtyards and structures. We will oversee the reconstruction of the glass garden, the bell tower, the library tower and the Guards Hall. The King will for the most part oversee the rebuilding of the Great Keep and the Great Hall, though I suspect we will be assisting for most of that as well." Her voice rose as she spoke, so that everyone could hear her. "Fortunately, the Greyjoys left most of the walls intact and those that have been destroyed have since been rebuilt by you all. Thank you all for your dedication. But your work has not yet finished. It will not be finished for quite some time." There was a moments pause before the Lady continued. "Now, if you all would return to your posts. Instructions will be given out shortly."

The remaining members of the crowd dispersed as they all returned to their duties at once. Avariella surveyed the rubble once more, and took note of the two tall towers that still remained in tact. The book Olyvar had given her weeks before had gone to great detail to describe Winterfell and yet she still struggled to place everything together. There was one tower that was squat and round, with gargoyles atop it, and it took her another moment or so to identify it as the First Keep. "Is the tower in use?" she asked Lady Catelyn, gesturing one hand in its direction. Lady Catelyn nodded and replied, "It is. That is where we are keeping the wounded for the time being." Avariella moved her head to indicate she was listening to the conversation before turning her attention to the other tower. "That's the broken tower," she stated, unsure whether or not she was asking for reaffirmation.

"Yes," Lady Catelyn's voice was dark when she spoke and when Avariella turned to look at her a clouded expression was painted on her worn features. Avariella didn't know much about Lady Catelyn, but she could easily tell that something bad had happened to her in that tower, or to someone she loved. "It is being renovated for the first time in a few hundred years," Lady Catelyn said, never once looking away from the tower, "We need it to store food for the upcoming Winter." The wind blew even sharper after her words, almost instantaneously. Avariella let Lady Catelyn guide her to their destination, careful not to stare at the wreckage for too long. They walked in silence, the only sound being their feet crushing the gravel beneath them. It took Avariella a few moments to realise that they were being followed. She cast a covert glance over her shoulder and was startled by the sight of Lady Brienne following them at a close distance. She should not have been surprised at the notion of Lady Catelyn having a guard, but she had not seen Lady Brienne for weeks. It was almost as though she were a shadow, which seemed odd since she had an aura that demanded attention. Or at least, that was how Avariella saw it.

She looked forward before Lady Brienne could catch her eye, letting out a deep breath as she smoothed the lines on her skirt. Due to her absentmindedness, she almost crashed into Lady Catelyn, who had suddenly stopped in her tracks. Avariella frowned and moved so that she was standing next to her, taking in the sudden lines of sorrow on the Lady's face as she stared at a large piece of rubble. Avariella titled her head as she stared at the small ruined structure, something tugging at her chest as she recognised the familiar shape.

"My husband built the Sept for me a few moons after I arrived from Riverrun," Lady Catelyn said, her voice heavy with immeasurable grief. Avariella did not say anything for a few moments, the silence hanging heavy between them. "I'm sorry," she said eventually, a large lump in her throat, "Your husband was a good man." Lady Catelyn's blue eyes pierced her hear as she replied, "As I am sure was your brother my lady." Avariella nearly winced.

They continued on moving throughout the ruin, with Lady Catelyn pointing at various structures that she deemed important to mention to her. She went on about the various reconstructions they needed to do and how long it would take and how her daughter Arya had not returned. She did not mention Bran Stark and Avariella did not press her for any answers. The wind was sharp and biting but strangely enough Avariella grew used to it with time, so much so that she almost _enjoyed_ the feeling of the cool air reddening her cheeks.

"My son Rickon seemed to have taken a liking to you," Lady Catelyn commented, as they strode towards the group of workers waiting for them. Avariella had been too busy looking for Max, relaxing as she caught sight of him a small distance in front of them. "I have taken a liking to him as well," she replied evenly, linking her hands together in an effort to stop them from shaking. The resemblance to Avos was still too striking—too difficult for her to accept. To truly believe. It was almost has if he had been reborn. "He has had a very difficult childhood," Lady Catelyn told her, stopping her steps right before they reached the workers. Avariella turned to look at her, careful to keep her expression even as she met Lady Catelyn's eyes. They had hardened as she spoke and they never wavered as she continued, "Adapting to new people has been difficult for him every since he returned to Winterfell. I would not want for anyone to unsettle him." She had said the words kindly but Avariella heard the hint of the threat in her voice. _Hurt my son and I will hurt you._

 _Believe me,_ Avariella wanted to say, _I couldn't even if I wanted to. Avos won't let me._

"Of course," she replied cordially, waiting for Lady Catelyn to move ahead of her. She surveyed the crew in front of her from where she stood behind Lady Catelyn, suddenly feeling unsure of herself. She did not know what precisely she was meant to do. She stuck out like a weed in a field of roses. Avariella held no authority in the North— in this household and she was smart enough to know that her family was disliked across Westeros. The Southerners did not trust the Northerners and the Northerners only trusted their own. She could see it in their eyes; in the way all of them had narrowed slightly when they saw her, in the way that none of them had warmed or twisted into a polite expression. They were all just blank faces with distant expressions, unwilling to let her in. Avariella took a deep breath before staring them all in the eye, not losing her ground. Those who met her eyes looked at her with poorly concealed suspicion and wariness. _Southerners have not been kind to them._ The realisation rattled her more than she cared to admit. The Twins had been apart of the war for a year, and all the fighting had taken place away from them. For the most part, she had been sheltered away from the horror. She pictured Avos bloodied and broken, and resisted the urge to shudder.

Lady Catelyn began giving out instructions which Avariella chose not to listen to, instead allowing her mind to wander. She made close enough attention to notice several group members begin to spread out with various tools and so she stood there silently, waiting for someone to tell her to do something. "We will all be focused on one main goal for the next few moons: Restoring Winterfell. In order to do that, we need to be patient and work hard. Winter is near, and we need to survive. My son, your King, has taken a group of workers to work on the Great Keep, the great Hall, and we will work on the rest. Talk to me if you have any questions or complaints, though I believe that my instructions will be quite clear. . ."

The wind rattled Avariella's slim frame, causing her to shiver. No one else seemed bothered. Avariella waited for Lady Catelyn to introduce her, to mention her name, but the elder woman never even cast her glance as she spoke, her attention focused directly on the workers in front of her. The group disbanded after Lady Catelyn finished her speech, and Avariella observed quietly as a man in Maester's robes hurried up to her, a large book in his arms. It was an odd sensation, Avariella noted, she did not know what to do with herself. She merely stood there, alone, whilst the noises of hammers and pickaxes began to rise.

"Lady Avariella," Lady Catelyn called out, summoning her to them. Avariella moved towards them, holding her head high as she met the Maester's eyes. He did not seem to be too old, but she could see grey hairs begin to form at the crown of his head. He had prominent black circles around his eyes, which would have made the grey of his pupils seem dull if it weren't for the surprising liveliness in his eyes. "Hello my lady," he greeted happily, hugging the thick book close to his chest. She nodded at him politely, offering him a small smile before she glanced at Lady Catelyn. The Lady eyed her with an inscrutable expression, before saying: "Lady Avariella, meet Maester Bryal, he has only recently arrived in Winterfell but a mere year ago."

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," she returned, clasping her hands together modestly. The rest of what happened was a blur. There were conversations of the number of coin they were using, an update on the injured and numerous of other things that Avariella was not quite sure was her business to begin with. Eventually, she found herself supposedly 'supervising' a group of workers, but to her it was more like watching a bunch of people pile rocks together and then carry them. She stood there, feeling unsure of herself when she caught sight of the little girl. She was young, younger than Shirei, with a pale complexion and dainty features. Her hair was the colour of straw and Avariella stood there frowning, when she noticed that she was trying to pick up a stone from the pile. She had not noticed the little girl before and wondered where she had come from. No one else seemed bothered by her presence.

Avariella watched as the girl struggled before sighing and walking up to the pile of stones, careful to keep out of the way of the workers. She crouched down next to the girl and murmured, "You seem like you need some help." The girl glanced up at her, startled, her pale eyes wide with surprise as her hands stopped trying to pull up one of the rocks. Avariella almost laughed once she caught sight of how big the stone was before carefully picking it up so she could carry it. "Take one of the smaller ones," she advised, casting the girl a soft smile before rising to her full height. The girl flushed a light shade of pink before picking up a considerably smaller rock and cradling it in her arms. "Where do these need to go?"

"The first Keep," the girl replied lowly, not looking her in the eyes. Avariella frowned; "Is that not where they are keeping the wounded?" she asked, walking beside the girl. "Yes," the girl almost stumbled before continuing, "But one of the walls near it was weak so they needed a few more stones to—" she coughed suddenly, her cheeks red. Avariella took pity on her and asked no further questions, her arms beginning to burn due to her holding the heavy rock for sometime. It was whilst she was adjusting the rock in her arms that the girl spoke once again, "Thank you, your grace, for your assistance." Avariella was too busy adjusting her grip to realise what the girl had just said.

It took all of her strength not to drop the stone on her feet. "No," she cried out, panicked, her voice unusually loud and high pitched. "No—I— I am not the queen. I am Walder Frey's daughter, Lady Avariella."

The girl looked awfully embarrassed, "I am sorry I thought—because— oh my I apologise Lady—Lady Ava—" her face screwed up with frustration as she tried to pronounce Avariella's name with failed results. Avariella felt a smile form on her lips, forgetting her distress. "Lady Ava or Lady Frey is just fine," she told her softly, for once a genuine smile gracing her lips. The girls cheeks still burned red as she smiled at her cautiously. They continued to walk on in silence and Avariella nearly cried out with relief when they finally arrived at the First Keep, her arms aching with excursion.

"Thank you," the girl repeated placing her rock down with a pile of others. Avariella did so as well, quietly surveying the work cite. The workers worked quietly and with a sense of hurry. None seemed to notice her. "It was no problem," she responded absentmindedly, taking in the drum tower. "My father is in there," the girl said quietly, causing Avariella to look down at her. The expression of sorrow on her face made Avariella's heart ache. "I'm sorry," she told her, _I lost my brother in the war._ Though the experience was different, Avariella realised. Avariella found out Avos had died when Olyvar had returned and Avos had not been in sight. The only anticipation she had had was waiting for him to come home after her father had ordered his men to return to the Twins. This poor girl had seen her father in agony and was anxiously waiting for him to either get better or die.

"At least I have my mother."

That was an experience Avariella could not share.

"It was a pleasure making your acquaintance. . ." she let her words drift as she realised she was not aware of the child's name. "Lilly," the girl told her, "My name is Lilly."

"That is a lovely name," Avariella said kindly. She eyed the door to the keep once more before shaking her head and almost moved to walk back to where she had been before, when she stopped herself. "Do you need any more assistance here?" she asked Lilly suddenly, realising that she held no use back where she had been left at. _I may as well do something rather than stand around looking like a fool._

Lilly looked at her with surprise before nodding.

* * *

"Avariella."

She jumped at the sound of Olyvar's voice, nearly dropping the cloth in her hands due to her sudden surprise. "Olyvar," she returned, rubbing the wet cloth across her dirty hands once she had adjusted her grip. He eyed her for a moment, the wind rustling his dark hair, and then spoke: "Were you carrying rocks with the workers?" Avariella could not tell whether or not he disapproved, and the notion that he might made her body tense. "I assisted where I could," she corrected, shifting her body so that she could stare him in the eye, unwilling to back down. To her surprise, a small smile grew on his face, unnerving her.

"What?" she asked defensively, dropping the cloth into the basin, careful to keep her voice down. Olyvar shook his head and instead of answering her, he said, "It is time for you to attend to the Queen." Avariella paused at this, sending a careful glance around them to make sure that no one was listening. "Must I?" she questioned tirelessly, her tone defeated. Olyvar observed her with a confused expression before nodding silently. Avariella dropped the cloth in the basin and looked around the site, trying to find Lilly so she could inform her of her departure. When the girl with the straw coloured hair did not appear within her sight, Avariella sighed and moved to follow Olyvar, not pleased with leaving so suddenly. "I am surprised that you helped them all things considering," Olyvar told her as they walked. Avariella stiffened at his words and shot back, "Believe it or not Olyvar I am capable of being mature. Besides, I merely carried a few rocks back and forth and sorted some supplies for the medbay. I spent most of my day standing there doing nothing."

Olyvar merely made a noncommittal sound, casting them in an awkward silence once more. They had not interacted a lot over the course of the past few weeks, both of them making an unconscious effort to avoid each other. Avariella had wished to apologise and make amends in the first week, but once Olyvar had made it clear that he had no desire to be in her presence she had grown angry instead and all desire she had to apologise disappeared. Now, though, standing beside him as he took her to the Queen— she shuddered inwardly— she only felt tired. Her arms ached due to her earlier efforts and all she desired to do was crawl into a bed and sleep. She nearly groaned out loud once she remembered that they would not be moving into Winterfell for at least a fortnight as they worked on rebuilding it.

Avariella frowned when she caught sight of where they were going. Lilly had taken her away from the First Keep so that they could help sort the medical supplies that had arrived on the side of the courtyard so Avariella had never been inside the keep and if she were to be frank she had no desire to. When she voiced her thoughts aloud to Olyvar he eyed her with sympathy. "The Queen is a dedicated healer," he told her as they reached the door, "She was persistent in continuing as such once she arrived at Winterfell." Olyvar paused before opening the door and Avariella took the moment to collect herself. _Give me strength,_ she thought, unsure of whom she was asking but desperate for it nonetheless.

Avariella hurried after Olyvar once he had opened the door and almost immediately she was overwhelmed. There were persistent groans echoing throughout the tower and a strong smell of blood and death that, were she a child, she would have cowered in fear and cried to her parents. Alas, neither did she have any parents— present with her— and neither was she a child. So she took a deep breath to quell her queasiness and followed Olyvar. There were multiple cots that were lined in rows that were occupied by dying men. It was cramped and crowded and Avariella found it difficult to breathe. When she caught sight of a man with an amputated leg unconscious, she reminded herself harshly that her struggles were far less than theirs. Shame blossomed in her chest as she looked away from the man, lowering her eyes.

"You won't stay here long," Olyvar murmured into her ear, "You will escort the Queen to her tent and act as her lady in waiting. There is to be a dinner later this evening and you will be expected to be there as well." His breath hitched before he continued. "There will be Lords looking at you Avariella, remember you are to be engaged to one of their sons." Her bitterness was like a noose around her neck. "How could I ever forget?"

There was a moment when they stood there, looking for the Queen. "Where is Max?" Olyvar asked suddenly. "He ran off a few hours ago," she replied, unconcerned. Olyvar made a non-committal noise beside her, but did not say anything.

"I suppose the both of you are looking for me?"

Avariella turned around to look at the Queen and tried to mask her tiredness. _Oh dear gods,_ she groaned inwardly, taking notice of her appearance. The Queen's hands were stained with blood and her cheeks had small blemishes of dark red that seemed to have appeared when she accidentally brushed them with her hands. Her braid had come undone and was in tangles and she massive rings under her eyes that made her black orbs look empty.

"Indeed, your grace," Olyvar said, bowing appropriately, which prompted Avariella to do the same. She said nothing, locking her jaw together and trying to mask her disdain. "I need a moment before I leave," the Queen told them, looking oddly fragile. "Of course, your grace," Olyvar conceded, bowing appropriately. Avariella moved her head in a poor attempt to show that she cared about the conversation. Once the Queen disappeared, Olyvar hissed quietly: "Stop acting as though you are a corpse Avariella." His tone aggravated her beyond reason.

"I will stop acting like a corpse once she stops boring me to death," she snapped back, her cheeks growing flushed with anger. Olyvar smiled at her wryly, but there was an undeniable warning in his eyes; _be careful,_ his brown pools whispered, _she is a Queen whom is dearly loved by her King._

"Try your best to be polite," is all he said in return, failing to mask both his amusement and frustration. It was as she observed him that she wondered what made Olyvar so dedicated to serving the King. She had known that Olyvar was his squire during the war, while Avos had only been a soldier, but she had not known the true extent of their relationship. Olyvar had written letters to her, Roslin and Shirei and had mentioned the King in passing— though not in detail, as he claimed he wished for them to make their own impressions of him, as his potential wife— but his words had not revealed any indication that the King was some otherworldly figure with no faults.

 _Or perhaps Olyvar forgave him long ago._

The thought was an unwelcome, as evidenced by her immediate scowl.

"Your grace," she breathed, as the Queen returned from wherever she had disappeared off to, now looking a lot more presentable, giving her brusquely cleaned skin a faint glow. "Shall we?" The Queen prompted and before waiting for them to answer she made her way to the door. Avariella was not eager to linger; the stench of death and the dying was becoming too much for her to bare.

It was in her hurry that she did not realise that Olyvar had not followed after them.

* * *

Hate her she might, Avariella could not deny that the Queen was extraordinarily beautiful. Avariella had had the opportunity to go clean and dress herself in the tent that had been assigned to her before she had to go help the Queen get ready for the dinner. It had been there in the small, slightly bare living arrangements did she notice the sealed letters left on the small table for her. She had nearly tripped over herself in her eagerness to get to them, and had ripped open the seal for the first one with such a hastiness that it was a surprise she had not ripped the paper in two.

 _Dear Avariella,_

Roslin's familiar scrawl wrote.

 _I heard of your journey to the North and though I do not agree with your hatred of the King, I am sorry that you have been forced to live as his ward for the foreseeable future. I have also heard of Shirei's plight as well. I tried to convince my lord husband to write to father as his liege lord to allow her to stay at Riverrun for a few years before going to live in her betrothed's household but he claimed that it was Father's business and his alone._

 _That had been the first time I ever got cross with my husband. He is a kind man, Avariella and very brave. He has treated me with nothing but kindness and delicacy throughout the short duration we have been wed and I have tried to repeat the sentiment to the best of my abilities and have found that the affection I have for him is something that does not need to be forced. Marriage life— and life as the Lady of Riverrun— is something to behold, Avariella. I can not wait for you to be wed. I hope you will be as fortunate as I—_ at this Avariella had snorted loudly, but continued to read on— _with your marriage._

 _Oh, Riverrun is without a doubt the most beautiful place I have ever been, Avariella, the most wonderful place I could ever hope to be. The castle is surrounded by water, trees and fields and when first light breaks it creates the most enchanting image. I can not find the words to describe it. As my letter draws to a close, Avariella, there is one thing that has been plaguing me that I must confess:_

 _I have not had my moon's blood since the fortnight before I was wed. The thought of a babe in my womb both frightens and excites me beyond reason and I must admit that I have not told another soul. My husband visits my chambers regularly and makes love to me successfully and shall be expecting a child soon enough. My hands tremble as I write this._

 _I miss you dearly._

 _Love,_

 _Roslin_

Now, as Avariella combed the Queen's hair with a gentleness that she felt should not be directed at someone she loathed, she still felt slightly ill due to Roslin's revelation. Granted, she was pleased for her sister as she still loved her dearly, despite their still mending relationship but the thought of her being related to a Tully—even if it was Edmure Tully— made her fists clench. She herself was dressed in one of her newly made gowns. It was a light blue colour with golden embroidery covered by a thick layer of fur draped around her shoulders. She had twisted her red locks into a intricate bun that she still feared would tip over, but so far it remained firmly in place. She had made an effort to look presentable, not wanting any negative glares and whispers. Avariella was much too tired to handle it.

"No," the Queen commanded softly, as Avariella had moved to braid her hair, "I wish for it to be left like this." Avariella nodded obediently, her mind still focused on Roslin's letter. Shirei had written as well, but it had been before she left for her new home and had merely detailed how much she missed her. It had made her heart ache painfully in her chest. She was too caught up in her own thoughts to recognise that the Queen was nervous— so much to the point that her hands trembled. It was no wonder as to why; the Queen knew that she was unpopular and not trusted by not only the Northern lords but the Southern too. The death of male child was seen to be an omen that her and the King's marriage was ill-fated.

The Queen had as much to prove as she.

 **A/N HEY GUYS OMG IM SO SORRY IT'S BEEN SO LONG, I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO BEGIN TO APOLOGISE. School has been a bitch and my writers juices have kinda been uninspired lately. I don't even know. Thank you all so much for your feedback, I am so glad that you are all enjoying this story! I know it seems like nothing really happened in this chapter, and I don't blame you guys for feeling that way, I had planned to include more but I have so much schoolwork and other things that I have to prioritise so I did not know when I could be able to add the rest of what I wanted. These next few chapters will be mostly of Avariella settling into the North and how her relationships and her attitude will either change for the better or for worse. Let me know what you guys think! THANK YOU ALL FOR EVERYTHING! FEEL FREE TO PM ME IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS! REVIEW TO LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!**

 **Until next time,**

 **Fionakevin073**


	10. Sorry Guys

**A/N Hey guys, sorry this is not a chapter or an update for all of you lovely leaders but I gotta admit, I've been having a lot of trouble writing this story lately. I mean, inspiration has been running low and I've been so caught up with school and my other one shots that I quite honestly have not written a word for the next chapter. It's odd, I know what I want to happen and I have plans for the story but whenever I try to write it down I can't find the words.**

 **Don't misunderstand me though, I have every intention of finishing this story but I'm not quite sure as to** _ **how.**_ **Maybe I'll do another three or 4 mega long chapters to conclude the storyline that I've come up with or maybe I'll undergo a massive change and finish the next 30 chapters that I have outlined by December of this year. Probably not, but maybe.**

 **This story IS NOT being abandoned, it's just taking a much needed break so that the next time I update it won't be complete and utter dispassionate crap.**

 **Okay thanks guys!**

 **Until next time,**

 **Fionakevin073**


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